


Saved for Memories

by Rueitae



Category: Carmen Sandiego (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: (attempt), Angst with a Happy Ending, Dungeon, Electrocution, Gen, Hostage Situations, Interrogation, Kidnapping, Near Death Experiences, Operas, Partial Mind Control, Player & Carmen Sandiego | Black Sheep Friendship, Player Centric, Player POV, Player finally gets to tell the Faculty their security sucks, Power of Friendship, Psychological Torture, Sassy Player, Strangulation, Whump, but not that adorable, even VILE thinks Player is adorable, falling from significant height, litearlly, that's honestly all i really wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29743086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rueitae/pseuds/Rueitae
Summary: Player gets a rude awakening that he isn't as safe as he thinks he is. He knows he's descending into the underworld of VILE fast and dragging Carmen with him, the problem is he can't stop it. He's the information guy, not the action guy. But with VILE armed with a device that literally can see into his memories, can he even keep that information safe?
Relationships: Player & Carmen Sandiego | Black Sheep
Comments: 68
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My massive thanks to Sakarrie for her literal constant cheerleading from the beginning and ConstantConfusion for her cheerleading and beta-ing. Thank you guys for literally making every day fun with more crazy AU ideas. 
> 
> I started this immediately after season 4 because I was pretty bummed that literally every main character got kidnapped by VILE at some point *except* for my fav. Although this means that I get to make as much fic as I want on the subject matter. 
> 
> Anyway, here's the fic where the power of friendship literally wins.

Despite the mob of people around him, a single, easy-going laugh infiltrates Player’s ears - the only one he allows through his noise-canceling headphones. 

“I guess we’re going to have to get you frequent flyer miles like the rest of us,” Carmen teases. 

Player rolls his eyes, but smiles anyway as he follows his parents through the airport lobby, backpack full of essential hacker’s tools. With one hand he totes his roller bag full of clothes and toiletries, and in the other he holds his cell phone and current connection to his best friend. 

No VILE activity today, just a well needed vacation. 

Player slips the phone into his sweatshirt pocket as his mother turns around to hand him his boarding pass. “It’s just my grandparents. Not nearly exciting as Hawaii or _Madagascar_ ,” he says with a smirk. “And that suits me just fine.”

Right on cue there are twin whoops and hollers in the background of Carmen’s call. 

Player can easily imagine Carmen’s shrug even as she tempts him, “Ninety percent of the wildlife here can’t be found anywhere else. It’s a biodiversity hotspot. Zack and Ivy are having a blast. Shadowsan is even enjoying the nature walks. Sure you don’t want to switch flights and hang out?”

It’s tempting, oh so tempting. For as long as Player has been friends with Carmen, they’ve never met in person. That’s okay, he always tells himself. He and Carmen have a friendship that has stood the test of time and distance. 

His fingers find the strap of his backpack, rubbing his thumb in agitation. Yet at the same time, as their friend circle grows and Player remains distant with his double life, there’s nothing more he’d love to do than give Carmen a hug, get crushed in one by the siblings, and see Shadowsan’s grin of approval in the flesh. 

He’s aware his long sigh reaches Carmen’s ears, but she can interpret it in a million different ways. “As much as I’d love to stay home all summer, Calgary’s a nice place,” he says. 

“It _is_ nice you get to take a break from capers…” Carmen begins.

“Oh no, I’m still helping,” he insists. “I’m bringing all my gear. All I have to do is adjust to a different time zone!”

“Not...exactly what I mean. I’m just irrationally worried, is all.”

Player furrows his brows, considering his next words carefully since he’s in a public space. It occurs to him that that might be the very reason for Carmen’s irrational worry. “I’ll be plenty safe in the middle of nowhere. Grandpa’s been waiting since forever to take me to the Stampede. There will be tons of people there.” Witnesses.

“VILE loves events just like it,” Carmen warns. “They hide in plain sight.”

“They don’t know who I am,” he assures her. He makes sure of it.

Well, pretty sure, anyway. Player knows he’s good, but there are no absolutes in the hacking world. There’s a certain amount of artistry to his craft and requires a lot of planning for contingencies. Even so, there’s been far too many times Player has found himself thinking on his feet. Hackers are still people that come with diverse personalities and talents. It’s near impossible to account for them all.

“Sorry, I know,” she says, uncharacteristically fumbling with her words. “It’s just, this is the first time since I’ve known you that you’re going outside of town. I’m really glad you are! I’m just paranoid. It’s my job.”

“And mine,” Player quips right back, the smile on his face reflecting the one in his heart. He’s already thoroughly investigated how his step-father won this vacation and came up clean. 

Carmen laughs. “I guess we’re just two sides to the same coin.”

“Chocolate coin,” Player jokes. “You guys are gonna love all the pictures I’m going to send from all the baking I’ll be doing.”

Player’s stomach rumbles and he licks his lips. Memories of flour all over the kitchen, as well as him and his grandma, flood his mind. He can practically taste the gooey center of her family-famous chocolate chip cookies and the opportunity to wave the delectable goods in front of his team. Ivy’s inner chocolate connoisseur will go mad. Just imagining the rise he’ll get out of the siblings alone can’t wipe the grin off his face. 

So he yelps and jumps when a hand grabs hold of his shoulder. 

“Player?” Carmen’s voice edges on the verge of panic. “Are you okay? Say anything!”

Her final words are a whisper as Player’s step-father removes his headphones. “Time to put away the electronics, Bud,” he says, pointing to their left. “You can chat with your friends again after we get through airport security.”

As his parents turn and head towards the metal detectors, Player clutches his pounding heart. His hand is free. At some point his parents gave his suitcase to the attendant while he wasn’t paying attention. 

He can’t afford to lose concentration like that. He’s Carmen Sandiego’s metaphorical eye in the sky. If someone, especially the _wrong_ someones, were to know that…

Player slips his headphones back on and is greeted by worried siblings as well as a worried Carmen. 

“I knew that Troll was no good!” Ivy growls. “I’ll drag him out from under his bridge and…” 

Player speaks after the distinct sound of a fist slamming into a palm. “I’m okay guys. Was just my dad. I’m headed through security now, but I’ll chat with you on the other side.”

“Sounds good, Player. See you on the flip side.” Carmen’s voice is, as always, cool and calm with a hint of wit. 

But there was also unmistakable relief. 

Player disconnects after a quick goodbye to Zack, who offers to pick him up anytime he wants. 

It’s incredibly sweet that his friends care so much for him. It makes him feel good: needed in a way he can never quite grasp when it’s caper time and they’re all laser focused on the mission. As much as he loves his grandparents, he’s tempted again to take the holiday with Team Red and see the world outside of Canada. 

But also…

Player surveys the airport. He barely catches his step-father’s trench coat near the security line with the amount of people between them. Not surprising, as Toronto is one of the busiest airports in the world. It’s easy to become unfocused.

Fictional character aside, Kevin McCallister managed to get himself lost in an airport. And Player has more enemies than two small time house robbers. 

VILE doesn’t know he exists. It’s the mantra he’s repeated to himself over and over again through the years. He’s safe in Niagara Falls. They can’t steal a waterfall so there’s no reason to even come there. By the time Player had really, truly understood where Black Sheep was running from, it had been too late to back out anyway. He had climbed mountains for his best friend, dissecting VILE hard drives and showing up every night to talk her through capers. He has always been there to help her beat the criminal organization at their own game and always will be. It’s exactly the difference he’d wanted to make when he donned the white hat and it's just a bonus he gets to do so with his best friend. There have been no second thoughts in his mind about helping her. Still aren’t. 

But VILE isn’t an anonymous online presence. They have agents in the field like he has Carmen and the others. He’s _her_ team. With that comes her enemies as well. 

Player knows he’s good. He covers his tracks. But... 

Knowing V.I.L.E. has an active hacker of their own is a little unnerving. It’s something he anticipated, because why would a criminal organization not have one? He’d defeated The Troll at his own game. Player is the better hacker. 

But The Troll still has the skills to take any scraps Player might have left. He’s told Carmen, she’s made him prioritize his safety, but it’s still enough to keep him up at night.

Player gulps and hastily shoves all but his passport into his backpack. The sooner he’s through security, the safer he is. Still, part of him wishes his summer plans were all back at his home in Niagara Falls. 

~~~~~

He doesn’t feel safe even as he says goodbye to his parents, wishing them a relaxing and well deserved time in Maui.

It isn’t until he finds his gate, sits near the window, and phones Carmen that he does. 

“Welcome back, Player.”

Player heaves a sigh of relief at her voice, slumping into the cheap plastic seat. He won’t have her on the commercial flight, but this is enough to tide him over. “Did I miss anything good while I was gone?” From experience, fifteen minutes is plenty of time for Carmen and the field crew to get into any kind of trouble. 

“Zack made friends with a crab,” Carmen says helpfully, and with a hint of amusement. “Ivy is trying to get him to poke it. I think she wants it to pinch him.”

Player watches the crowd at the gate idly as parents wrangle their young children and an older couple chats over a book. He resists the urge to open his phone’s web browser to find out what kind of crab, its history, and habitat. He can do that later when he’s not talking. “I’m glad you guys are enjoying vacation.” A janitor collects a paper cup beside him and tosses it in the trash.

“You’ll get there soon enough,” Carmen assures him. Easy for her to say, she’s probably got her swimsuit on and watching the waves crash upon the beach in complete bliss. “Let’s take this gift from VILE like everything else they give us.”

There’s usually at least one caper attempt from VILE each month, usually more, per the information from their hard drive. Team Red handily foiled the theft of a top of the line stealth jet last month. Because of that, VILE is unable to tie it into their next scheduled caper. Coupled with Player’s parents winning their trip to Hawaii, it's time for Team Red to take some well deserved time off. 

“Run with it,” he answers with a chuckle. The janitor leaves with the trash bag and Player’s eyes flicker to the activity at the counter. “I’d better go. They’re about to make an announcement.”

“Chat with you in the morning,” Carmen says. They’ll all be asleep when he lands. “And Player?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t worry,” she assures him in the most sure tone, the one that inspires and leaves no room for argument. “I’ve got your back...if things get too boring.”

Warmth bubbles up into his chest. Carmen added that last part very jokingly, but he receives her message loud and clear. He wants to say thank you for understanding his very specific worries about being found out by the wrong people, but can’t exactly do so in a public airport. Besides, he tells himself, he’s just as vulnerable traveling as he is at home. If their enemies want him out of the picture, they’d find him wherever he is. 

Just Carmen’s words themselves will have to do. “I know.” Just like he has her’s. 

The attendant at the desk mouths something boredly into the speaker system. Player can just make out her dull tone as he quickly says goodbye and hangs up Carmen’s call. He takes off his headphones…

“...uchard. Mr. Bouchard to the desk please.”

Player blinks in surprise, brows furrowed. He’s got his ticket… he growls. They’re going to give him special treatment on the flight just because he’s a minor. 

Begrudgingly, Player lays his headphones around his neck and sticks his cell phone in his front pocket. Chin up, long strides, confident aura, just like Carmen would. He storms to the counter and musters up all the righteous energy of a teenager scorned. 

“Listen,” he begins once he reaches the counter. “I know I’m sixteen, but I’m--”

“Your ticket,” the lady says, twitching her nose in disgust, as if she had better things to do. “Upgraded seat.”

Player takes the ticket, only now realizing how much his jaw has dropped. “Oh,” he says. Heat rises to his cheeks in embarrassment. “Sorry. Thank you. This is uh,” he chuckles, waving the important piece of paper in regret that he’d nearly yelled at her, “pretty cool.”

A waft of perfume travels across his nose. More out of human curiosity than anything, Player turns to see where it may have come from. 

The other passengers loiter just as they had only a minute ago, none the wiser to his upgrade. There’s a lot of people on this flight, the Stampede is a big rodeo event. 

How did _he_ get the upgrade first?

Worry trickles into his mind and it goes into overdrive. Now that he thinks it, the attendant’s voice feels familiar. Maybe from his online college courses?

Maybe from his extracurricular activities. 

The perfume aggravates his senses though, and a sharp pain across his forehead heralds a headache.

He can’t check his database now anyway. All he can do is nod and take his ticket and slink back to his se--

The door to the jet bridge opens. The male attendant also looks strangely familiar, but Player can’t think well enough right now to figure out where from. “Ready to board,” his equally familiar voice says.

“You’re up, Kid,” the female attendant says. She smiles, the mole against her bottom lip nearly distracting him. He’s seen this before. He’s seen this before. He’s seen-- “I’ll take your ticket back.” It’s a nice phrase. She’s offering to board him.

Why does it sound so sinister?

Player looks back at the crowd who are ignorant of his internal battle. The colors of their outfits swirl together like a kaleidoscope. He blinks and shakes his head in some strange attempt to adjust his eyes. The headache grows worse.

“Right this way, Mr. Bouchard,” a male attendant says as a hand is placed on his back, urging him forward. “Your chariot awaits.”

Player is on the jet bridge before he realizes it. He groans, the headache growing worse as the early morning sun hits the glass walls and shines into his eyes from every direction. Well, being first on the plane did have its perks. He can give Carmen a quick call and brag about his lucky day. 

Just for a moment Player allows himself to close his eyes. The most horrifying thought that crosses his mind is that his mother is right; staring at the computer screen in the dark is bad for his eyes. 

A little bit longer and he can sleep it off on the flight. He’s got to move before the rest of the passengers start boarding. The last thing he wants is to give the crew reason to worry about him when he’s perfectly capable of making it to Calgary without someone hovering over him. 

Player’s palm finds the wall of the jet bridge as he stumbles forward, his other hand clutching the strap of his backpack. Nothing a little Dramamine and Tylenol can’t fix. He just has to get to his seat. 

So he barely pays attention as he crosses the threshold into the plane and nods when the flight attendant blessedly directs him to the very first row. 

Player falls less than gracefully into his seat and doesn’t remember anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Player is threatened and his cheeks are pinched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't ask me where exactly in the series this takes place because I honestly still have no idea. 
> 
> Also after re-watching s1 yesterday, I'm not entirely sure I wrote Maelstrom unhinged enough.

His neck hurts. 

The steady hum of the engine threatens to lull him back to sleep. His head still throbs, though it’s more of a dull ache than the sharp pain that made it hard to keep his eyes open. Gulping, he realizes how dry his mouth is. Player isn’t the snoring type, so it’s a weird and unfamiliar sensation. 

“Need some water?” 

Player nods as he moans. He scrunches his eyelids shut in preparation for the blinding light that’s sure to greet him. 

But it’s dark. 

The window blind is down and there is only the soft lighting along the overhead storage. It’s a beautiful green, not what he remembers from the last time he flew to his grandparents’ house. 

Must be a new model. The itch for knowledge is strong. He could wait to look it up when they land, but he’s got nothing else to do on the flight. 

Player pokes his head out to the aisle. “Hey!” He’s caught off guard by the weakness of his own voice, a sore tingle in his vocal cords that he usually only gets after a solid night’s sleep. He swallows to soothe the ache and resume his question. “What’s this plane’s model? Did Airbus make a new edition of the MD-80?”

The flight attendant is nowhere to be seen. 

Player frowns in disappointment and frustration he’d just missed her. 

He slides back into the window seat. Pushing the shade up, he grins. “Alright, let’s see where on Earth Player is.”

The layer of cirrus makes it difficult to see, but nowhere does he see the Great Lakes, the Northern Plains of the United States, or even the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. 

The Great Lakes are the largest group of freshwater lakes on Earth and hold twenty one percent of the world’s surface fresh water. But even as large as they are, the body of water below is immense. He knows what the lakes look like from the sky and this isn’t it.

The flight to Calgary is just shy of four and a half hours. The Great Lakes are some of the first views he should see, but it feels as though he’s been sleeping for hours. 

His phone should tell him how long he’s been asleep. 

But when Player reaches into his pocket, his cell phone isn’t there. His fingers grab at the fluffy textures of the inside front pocket to make sure. It isn’t long before he moves onto his short’s pockets and then his backpack…

No backpack. 

There is no more headache, it’s forgotten as Player tears apart the seat and it’s pockets. He registers that he’s able to get up and turn around without unbuckling his seat belt - because it had never been buckled in the first place. 

A sickening wrongness weighs on Player’s heart as he peers over the top of his seat. His bare hands squeeze the soft headrest but it doesn’t stop them from shaking. Rather than the rows of seats and people filling them, there is only the hum of the engine and empty space. 

He’s on the wrong plane. One that probably isn’t going to Calgary and took off knowing he was on board. 

Part of him wants to stay in his seat and assume this is all just a horrible mistake. 

The sounds of an orchestral arrangement break past the muted tones of the engine, ever so briefly, as if the piece reached a teasing crescendo. 

Player takes a deep breath. He wants to believe in his heart of hearts this isn’t for him, but his brain has already deduced otherwise.

What would Carmen do?

Look for the parachutes. Get information. Then leave. 

And contact him as soon as possible. 

Simple enough. 

Player jumps out of the lone aisle and looks everywhere. He opens every drawer and closet. 

“C’mon,” he hisses desperately as he kneels beside a now open lower compartment. It’s empty just like the others. “Where are they?”

“Looking for something?” 

That voice. The one from the desk who gave him the ticket. It’s smug now, and exceptionally amused. 

Player turns around and the full impact of his situation falls on him.

Tigress isn’t bothering to act the part anymore. 

He’s seen her face on Carmen’s cameras more times than he can count, heard her voice even more. But he’s never had to speak to her. His brain is fried, mouth gaping. How much does she know? Player is faced with the split second decision on whether to play dumb or be defiant off the bat. There is no way he’s going to let VILE use him to get to Carmen. And there’s still the tiniest chance he’s been kidnapped for a reason unrelated to Carmen—

“Cat got your tongue?” Tigress chuckles playfully, saving him from a damning response. In an instant, her claws are twice as long. “Get up.”

It’s stupid of him. He is on an airplane a mile high in the sky, traveling at near 500 knots. He _knows_ it a split second after he scrambles to his feet and bolts in the direction that will get him the furthest away from Tigress. Player isn’t the most athletic kid, but morning jogs with his parents now look like a blessing in disguise because he is _fast_ and has the stamina to run for a long time.

He doesn’t look back, even when Tigress hisses and there’s a loud thud where her claws dig into the floor where he’d just been sitting.

Picking up the pace, Player stumbles through the cabin as metal claws rake the interior wall where there should be rows upon rows of seats. His heart races as fast as his brain organizes the information at hand. Though it’s the last thing he needs to be thinking about, he recognizes the plane. He studied the schematics for the new stealth jet and (although it’s been revamped with a commercial disguise) this is most certainly it. Somehow VILE got the plane from the caper last month and his brain sputters to figure out where he went wrong. 

He needs somewhere to hold out until the plane lands. 

His hands find the restroom door and he fiddles with the sticky knob, much more difficult to open than most restrooms on airplanes that he’s familiar with.

The facade of freedom is fleeting. 

Player pries open the door and is greeted by not the restroom, but a rush of wind, the deafening roar of the engine, and the paralyzing sight of the wild blue yonder. 

Claws dig into his shoulder. Player yells as he’s ripped away from the door, falling across what would be the aisle, back on his bum. Wincing, he holds a hand over the wound. It’s superficial, but the pain pulses through his arm. 

“It’s not time for that yet,” Tigress says with an amused grin. “Let’s try this again.” 

There’s no way to make scrambling to his feet dignified as she hauls him up and lets him go with a spin. No sooner as he’s stable, Tigress shoves him forward. Player yelps, and through a series of footwork that might have made Carmen proud, he stays up. 

He ends up twisted around to face the approaching VILE operative. Her face is professional and mostly disinterested, which only strokes the defiance building within. “Where’s my phone?” he demands, fingers curled into fists. It’s a question that won’t confirm or deny that he knows who Tigress really is.

She cocks her head to the side with a smirk as she closes the gap between them. Player backs up, teeth clenched, until a door makes contact with his back. Tigress towers over him, stretching her claw over his head to claim her prey. “I’m the wrong person to ask.”

The door’s lock clicks and Player soon finds himself without support. His arms flail as he falls backwards, the rush of timpani filling his ears and drawing out his yelp of surprise. 

A gong is struck and the orchestra plays into a frenzy. Tigress grins. As she slams the door shut, the trumpets herald his arrival. 

Player knows this opera, has made it a point to know it considering he works with a woman who shares its name. It means he faces an inescapable truth, the epitome of his nightmares. 

VILE knows about him. And they have him at their mercy. 

He stands slowly as the music continues and quickly scans the area for any kind of defensible position. This room within the plane is small, furnished only by a set of plush, creamy white chairs, one facing the other. The one with its back to him is occupied. A pair of graceful arms act as if they were conducting the recording. 

Carmen would already be in action. She’d have already found the parachutes, wherever they were. 

He just stands there with a ball of nerves tied up in his gut, useless without his tech. 

As the act ends and the music stops, so too do the conducting hands. The elbows they belong to sit neatly upon the armrest. 

Silence. The tension is thick enough to coat the inside of his mouth with a stickiness that smells of fear. 

“Did you enjoy the opening act, Mr. Bouchard?” The male voice crawls up Player’s spine like a chilly slug. Professor Maelstrom thrives on the creation of fear. 

Player inhales, gathering his courage. First impressions are everything and the last thing Player wants to be is a pushover. He knows for a fact that the act Maelstrom refers to isn’t the opera that was just playing. This is only the beginning of their plans for him. A part of him wonders if he’s meant to live to see the final curtain. “Carmen,” he names it neutrally, “A little dramatic.”

Maelstrom chuckles, a bit too delighted for Player’s like. “A child of culture, I can appreciate that.

“Where’s my phone?” Player repeats the question sternly. It’s a noncommittal inquiry that gives nothing awa—

“A very interesting question.” Maelstrom remarks. “Not ‘who are you?’ or ‘what do you want with me?’”

The VILE faculty stands and turns to face him. He has mastered the look of smugness, the lines of his mouth etched in cruelty. “That is because you know who I am and whom I represent. How much has our common acquaintance told you about us?”

All pretense is gone. Player puffs up his chest and sets his jaw. He meets the steely blue eyes with determination not to break. “That you were a horrible teacher,” Player says without remorse.

The response is so worth it. Player steals Maelstrom’s smug grin as the VILE faculty scowls. 

“Little wonder the two of you get along,” he grumbles, then smiles very not-nicely. “Have a seat,” he gestures to the chair opposite his. “We have much to discuss.”

Player frowns, eyes wandering past Maelstrom to the chair, his mind in overdrive. VILE won’t stop at simply his kidnapping, they’ll kill him without hesitation once they find him no longer useful. That chair can easily be programmed to eject from the plane with him in it. At the very _least_ he expects restraints. 

“I’m fine standing,” he says firmly. 

Figures step out of the shadows to Player’s right and left. The room feels as though it’s dropped ten degrees as he looks up...and up at one of them. 

The lump in his throat plummets into his stomach. It’s the janitor from the airport gate. The _Cleaners_. 

Player knows he isn’t the most muscular, but as all of his body weight hangs from where the Cleaners lift him from his arms, it feels as though he weighs a ton. Gritting his teeth, all he can do is flail his legs until his bum hits the leather seat cushion. As he expects, metal cuffs are unveiled from within the armrests coated in the same material and from under the seat. His wrists are locked up with another band across his legs. It's almost hilarious how predictable this is now that he knows who he deals with, yet at the same time there’s nothing that Player can do to stop them from doing _whatever_ they want with him.

It’s humbling and humiliating and terrifying, none of which he can show externally. 

“More comfortable, isn’t it?” Maelstrom quips, taking a breath-stealing step closer. “Although, normally our guests fill out the seat a bit more.”

Suspense is Player’s most hated feeling. Even though Carmen is the most capable person he knows, every time she goes radio silent he fears the worst. He feels the anxiety watching his virus load while counting the seconds the enemy has to stop it before it infects their computer. It makes his stomach churn thinking about the infinite possibilities that can go wrong - it’s why he has a countermeasure for them all. He can hazard a guess with what VILE wants with him, but the sooner he knows for sure, the sooner he can prepare for it. The longer he can prepare for it, the greater the chance of a successful escape. So he narrows his eyes in the most menacing way he can and clenches his fists, willing the loathing he has for Maelstrom and his organization to cross the distance between them. “What do you want?” 

Maelstrom reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out Player’s own cell phone. “You are the bait to catch the most elusive of fish, and this is the moment we cast the line,” he says suavely, then sternly, “Which of your contacts leads to Carmen Sandiego?”

Player meets his stare. His phone is encrypted. He won’t find Carmen’s number until it's unlocked. All Maelstrom can see is the contacts for family. “I’m not helping you hurt her.”

“My dear boy,” Maelstrom grins. “You already are by virtue of being here.” With more casualty than Player likes, Maelstrom scrolls through, presumably, his contact list. “Perhaps your parents would like to know where you are? It would be a shame to ruin their vacation knowing their son is in league with the nefarious Carmen Sandiego.”

A gasp escapes his lips unwillingly, inhaling the stale cabin air into his already dry throat. The rush of panic that overtakes him is preceded only by the litany of facts that Maelstrom implies. The first of which is that he knows of his parents vacation, the one they’d won months ago. It isn’t a stretch of the imagination to realize that VILE planned this all, and had been for months. They’ve been watching, they knew…

Player steals his nerves. “I’m _not_ helping you hurt her,” he repeats, sterner.

But Maelstrom catches the slight wobble in his voice, because his smile grows more evil by the moment. 

“VILE is something like a family,” he goes with a sweet tone that barely conceals his glee over the situation. “Carmen Sandiego belongs to ours, just as you and your parents have your own. It would be tragic for an entire family to suddenly...disappear, despite being on opposite sides of the globe.”

Player jumps forward, seething through his teeth. “Leave my parents alone!” His heart beats rapidly, catching the threat towards himself included. His mother has been through _enough_ . She doesn’t need to worry over her son for _this_.

“Call Carmen Sandiego,” Maelstrom orders, setting the phone down on one of the armrests. Just in range for Player to unlock it and make the call. 

He swallows hard. Calling Carmen is something he looks forward to every day. But today they won’t be chatting about history and geography, at least, not like usual. 

More out of muscle memory than consciousness, Player inputs his encryption and faster than he’d like at the moment, the familiar red hat pops up on the screen and begins to dial. In a moment of clarity, he moves to unmute the video function so Carmen can see the inside of the plane…

But can’t before Maelstrom takes it away. 

She picks up right away. Because of course she does. She loves chatting with him just as much as he loves chatting with her. 

“Hey, Player,” she greets cheerfully. “Staying up late even on vacation?”

It’s even worse hearing her voice. If Player had any deniability to keep her safe, it’s gone now. His stomach twists into a knot knowing that the next words are going to change everything for her.

“A pleasure to hear your spirited voice, Black Sheep,” Maelstrom says gleefully. “I hope this call doesn’t find you busy.”

There’s a heavy silence before Carmen responds with venom in her voice, “Professor Maelstrom. How did you get this number?”

“I am borrowing it from a mutual friend,” Maelstrom says devilishly, gaze locked on Player. “I think he would like to speak with you.”

Player knows he has precious few words to convey the situation, so he picks the most important parts. “VILE planned the vacation!” he yells. Maelstrom frowns and nods to the Cleaners beside him. “Atla--mmmph!” It isn’t as much as he wants to say, but Carmen is smart, she’ll figure it out from that.

“Don’t you dare hurt him!” Carmen demands through the phone. 

“If you wish the boy unharmed, you will attend the London performance of L’Orfeo in one week’s time. Prepare to come home.”

“And if I don’t?” she says cooly. She already knows though. They both do. Player can hear the barely contained rage underneath her words. 

Maelstrom nods to the Cleaner not holding his mouth shut. With the press of a button, a hydraulic hiss directs Player’s attention to the floor directly in front of him. 

The roaring wind hits him first, suffocating back his gasp of horror and fear in his heart even though his mouth is freed.

He hates being right. 

His chair inches forward, putting most of his body directly over the portal through the belly of the plane and into the clouds below. The only thing preventing him from falling through the sky is the restraints holding him fast to the chair. He yells for help to the first person who comes to mind. “Red!”

“Player!” she screams back.

“London. One week,” Maelstrom repeats. Then, without hanging up, he drops the phone through the trap door. 

Player watches helplessly as his phone breaks through the clouds on its way to the ocean below. 

“The rest of the electronics too, if you please,” Maelstrom informs the Cleaners. “Mr. Bouchard won’t be needing them.”

There’s no point in trying to argue as his backpack is slid closer to the opening, but Player tries desperately anyway. If he’s going to have any chance to help Carmen and himself get out of this, he’ll need his tech. “There’s information coded in there,” he bluffs. 

“Information that I’m sure you will share with us in time,” Maelstrom calls him on it. 

The backpack tips over the side. Player still makes an attempt to reach for it even though he’s tied down, but he can only watch with horror as his only means to communicate with Carmen joins the shipwrecks at the bottom of the Atlantic. 

Player’s chair rolls back and the opening closes much more slowly than it had opened. With the loud noises of the engine and wind muted, Player can hear his heart beating wildly in his ears. He wants to relax so badly, but VILE Faculty takes a seat across from him and he is rightfully terrified. He’s not Carmen’s secret weapon anymore, he’s her greatest liability. 

All he really wants right now is his mom’s hugs.

Maelstrom entwines his fingers together and leans back into his own seat. “Player? That’s a quaint online identity.”

What Player would like to do is offer a witty comeback. But his eyes are fixated on the floor where the trap once was, his traitorous mind plays the nightmare of falling through the sky and slamming into the ocean over and over and over. He longs for his room, for his bed and computer system and all things that are familiar rather than this feeling of complete exposure. In less than ten minutes his entire world has changed forever. And unless he can rescue himself, or Carmen pulls off a miracle, it will never get better. 

Malicious laughter snaps Player out of his terror-filled daydream and into the nightmare of his reality. 

“You really thought we’d never find you?” he taunts. Player’s heart freezes over. “Oh, I’ve been told of your wizardry with technology. But,” he says with false compassion, “as brilliant as technology is, it only takes one portion of human error to dismantle.”

Fingers curl into fists, a defensive reaction that will not protect him from anything Maelstrom has in store. “How did you do it?” Player asks tersely. He is not looking forward to the gloating about to come his way, but knowledge is power, and he will use this as a learning opportunity, no matter how dire it is. 

Cruel lips curl into a knowing smirk. “That would be rather sporting of me to tell you, wouldn’t it? But no, I won’t. You will have enough time to ponder your error. If you guess correctly, then perhaps a reward will be in order.”

Player grits his teeth, nearly growling. He won’t be won over so easily. “I don’t want anything you have to give me.”

Already his mind is whirling because he needs to know. Was it the night Carmen stole back the Golden Earrings and he had to get up early the next morning? Did he miss that keystroke two months ago as his mother called him to the kitchen for dinner, the one that should have cleaned up his tracks after the caper in New York City?

“A pity, though I do enjoy the hard way.”

For a breathless moment, Player believes he’s going to die as Maelstrom reaches into his coat pocket. The device is a pyramidal shape with glowing green markings along the side and floats on its own as Maelstrom releases it. Player squirms uselessly to be free of his bonds, eyes locked on the device and ready to dodge the death ray - if he can.

Instead it projects a holographic image of the remainder of VILE’s faculty. 

“Act One has proceeded accordingly,” Maelstrom greets. “Our wayward student has been contacted.” His grin is too evil. “She was quite distressed.”

The little projector drone beeps.

“Don’t hurt him!” A recording of Carmen’s voice plays through the speakers.

Player sinks back into his seat. Hearing the desperation and fear in Carmen’s voice for a second time forces him to really reflect on it now that he’s not in immediate fear of his life or shocked by the situation. She’s terrified for him. Carmen does not _get_ terrified.

"My, my, my," Coach Brunt sighs wistfully. "I haven't heard her get that riled up since she was a toddler throwin' a tantrum in Bellum's lab."

For how well VILE continually demonstrates the evil in their name, the way Dr. Bellum crosses her arms over her chest and sits back in a huff is hilariously humanizing. "She wasted my entire stock of energy enhancement serum. That formula takes fifteen years to age!"

"Urgh," Countess Cleo airs in disgust, resting fingers gently against her forehead as if anticipating an oncoming migraine. "She was screaming at all hours of the day and night for a week."

At that, Player cannot help but laugh. "If Carmen could dismantle you when she was three, it's no wonder it’s so easy for her to do when she's twenty."

Just like that, the air is much clearer. The threat and tension is still there, but Player's confidence surges even as he receives the angriest glares from four of the world's most notorious criminals. He may be trapped for now, but he has the knowledge that he's bested each of them numerous times.

And they know it, too.

Maelstrom clears his throat. "Esteemed faculty, I'd like to properly introduce you to our guest. You are all familiar with Mr. Bouchard from the potential recruitment files--"

“Wait. _What_ ?” Player squeaks out, his heart catching in his throat. If they have a recruitment file on him simply based on his computer skills, then it's possible he's been on VILE's radar since before he even _met_ Carmen.

"Although he's still younger than most of our students during their admissions interviews, I believe we are still in agreement that under the circumstances he should be granted admission if he so chooses."

The words are out of his mouth before he can even think to stop them. "I will never join you," Player states venomously. "And Carmen won't ever go back either."

"Ohhh, I love the passion," Bellum interrupts. Player growls back, his breathing labored as he struggles against the restraints. Her gawking attitude completely flies in the face of the seriousness in which he makes his declaration. "It's about time we had a technology specialist with so much conviction."

"I think Ms. Sandiego will find it difficult to resist coming to save such a crucial piece of her resistance," Maelstrom continues. "And her reward for returning to us will be your continued partnership. Thus, we must admit you in our school."

Carmen will do anything if he is in danger. And Player knows he will do anything if Carmen were in danger. VILE plans to use them as hostages against each other in a never ending loop. He's no fool. They'll never let him talk to her again.

So he sputters, looking for any excuse that could deter VILE's plans for him. "My parents will be looking for me. My name will be all over the news."

"Your family has been informed of your new school," Maelstrom smiles. "We asked your parents to keep it a surprise because you were just so," the smile takes a cruel turn, " _excited_ to enroll."

"You are expected to behave yourself as a student," the Countess remarks. "That includes your role in bringing Carmen home."

Player searches his mind and heart for any scrap of a plan, desperate for anything to grab onto. His fear must show, because the response is a smug grin on the faces of each of VILE's faculty as they bury all hope deeper and deeper within his soul. So Player keeps it there, hidden among calculations and schemes he and Carmen have already pulled off and others they have yet to play; proof of their friendship conquering anything these adults can throw at them and knowing they have multiple aces in their pockets.

"If you think I'll give in that easy, you guys are way dumber than I thought," he spits out.

In the most cliche of villain mannerisms, Maelstrom taps his fingers together in anticipation. "Player," he says. Just saying his username sends shivers down Player's spine. It's wrong. It's so wrong. Only his friends get to use that name, not this slimy, hateful man, "is already such a delightful codename. You fit right in."

"You got guts to call yourself a player in the game," Brunt adds in, licking her lips. "I'm lookin' forward to seein' if that extends to the real world."

Player bites his tongue. Suddenly he chastises younger Player for thinking it was a good idea to gloat over how he made it past their twenty-seven levels of encryption all those years ago, because _these_ four were the ones he was naively trying to reach. It certainly won't do him any good to tell them that he's the one that decoded two of their hard drives and helped foil basically all of their plans.

He's saved from needing to respond as the door to the private cabin opens. Tigress stands on the threshold. "We're landing soon," she reports in a moderately bored tone.

Maelstrom claps his hands together. "Magnificent. Everyone will be able to meet in person. Are the accommodations ready?"

There is silence among the faculty. Couch Brunt leans over to stare at Dr. Bellum. Dr. Bellum looks up at Countess Cleo, who in turn blinks and scoffs, "you expected me to ready the room? That is the Cleaner's duty."

"The Cleaners are with the professor," Brunt says obviously. "I thought you were going to fancy it up like those interior design reality shows."

Cleo nearly shrieks in indignation. "Do not compare me to that...that...to _her_!"

"Uh oh," Bellum observes. She waves at the camera. "Cleo will be fine. Coach and I will take care of it. But perhaps...I can keep him at my lab?"

Maelstrom groans as Cleo dissolves into a sobbing mess and Brunt awkwardly tries to console her. "We may not have a choice. We have other tasks for the Cleaners and students. We will stop to refuel at the headquarters, then he's yours until time for the opera."

"Looking forward to getting to know you, Player," Bellum grins excitedly. "And so is my lab."

Player swallows the lump in his throat as the video call drops, leaving him with just those on the plane. Bellum's insinuation that he's worthy of some type of experiment sits like limestone at the bottom of his stomach, with the way the conversation and the pressure of his predicament increases and decreases as the faculty simultaneously show their most evil and most human sides.

As Maelstrom informs Tigress of the specifics of the new plan, Player closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Now that he knows what VILE's intentions are, it's time to focus and get to work doing what he and Carmen have always done.

"Another long flight?" he opens. It's easy to continue glaring Maelstrom's way, but he forces his tone to be borderline conversational, hoping he'll give up enough information for Player to work with.

Maelstrom smirks with an evil chuckle. "The next leg of the journey will be a bit shorter. But since I doubt you'll enjoy our company, I'll ask Dr. Bellum to bring a nice sedative for you."

The geographical calculations begin in earnest. They had to have just crossed the Atlantic. From Toronto to London is around six thousand kilometers. Which means Dr. Bellum's lab could be anywhere in Europe or Asia. Player isn't sure what Maelstrom means by a 'bit', but four to five thousand kilometers is a starting point enough. Assuming VILE's headquarters _is_ near Europe's west coast, that puts the lab somewhere in Russia, the Middle East, or near India and China.

Any one of those places will make finding help difficult, regardless if it's hiding in plain sight or in the middle of nowhere.

Or, worse, her lab is in the middle of the Atlantic ocean and they'll be backtracking to a place Carmen may not think to get to.

The sudden sound of hydraulics snaps Player to the present and he immediately checks in front of him. But the trap door is shut. Maelstrom is relaxing in his seat, with the seat belt on. That means it's the landing gear.

Player tugs his arm upwards in a second test of his bonds. Still secure.

The landing is smooth. Tall trees dot a thick forest through the small windows and he catches the castle that must serve as VILE's new base of operations. Definitely Europe then. He strains his eyes to grab another look at the architecture, anything that might tell him _where_ in Europe he is, but the plane makes a turn before coming to a stop.

Maelstrom stands, adjusting his blazer. He half turns to Player with a bemused grin. "When the countess is upset, it's wise to look one's best."

Player scowls and lightly tests his bonds. "I bet the marks on my wrists are gonna look super vogue," he drones sarcastically.

"You're not as adorable as you think you are," Maelstrom warns coldly. "Favor is won by offering your skills to--"

The door to the private room busts open to reveal Dr. Bellum grinning like a maniac, actually squealing when she lays eyes on him. "Look at him! What a cute vessel for a mind beyond his years!"

"Aww," Coach Brunt says, coming in behind her. "He's a bit scrawnier in person, but nothin' I can't fix." She sighs in reverie. "Reminds me of little Black Sheep when she was still pudgy and small...I gotta pinch those little cheeks."

Player sucks in a breath. "No, no that's okay. No pinching!"

And she does, squeezing his cheeks so hard that Player expects a bruise later. Player grimaces as he scrambles and pulls away, but the restraints are just as secure as when he tested them the first time.

Countess Cleo enters last. On her face is fresh makeup, expertly disguising the ugly tears she'd shed on the video call. She rolls her eyes. "Urgh, at last someone more miserable than I am right now."

Maelstrom sighs, folding his hands neatly behind his back. "Can you work with him?"

Cleo studies him for a long while, most of which Player doesn't see because Bellum is in his face poking at his nose while Brunt ruffles his hair.

"Typical teenager. I've worked with worse," she responds dully. "He will be ready for the opera."

"Coach Brunt, if you would do the honors, please? Our mistress of fashion needs to know what she is working with."

"My pleasure." The slam to the back of the chair reverberates into Player's bones, sending them shivering from his back to his toes. He grits his teeth as the chair releases him, hitting the floor knees-first. His arms are unable to keep his face from slamming into the floor, either.

"Ow," Player hisses, wincing as he tries to sit up.

He isn't lying down for long though. Large hands that feel very much like Coach Brunt lift him up from his shoulders and set him back on his legs as if he weighed nothing.

Even though he's free, the significance of being in the personal presence of VILE's faculty doesn't escape him. They are fully committed to the fact that he will never return to Canada no matter how this plan of theirs shakes out.

His heart grows heavy, eyes fixated on the floor in defiance even as he limply allows Cleo to take his measurements. Mom and Dad have no idea. Grandpa and Grandma must be so disappointed in him for choosing a school over them. They'd be happy for him, of course, for his education, but Player can practically see the hurt in their eyes realizing he wouldn't be spending the summer with them. He may not see any of them ever again. If Carmen's future wasn't already enough to bear, the threat against his family remains very real.

Cleo lets his arm go and it flops to his side freely. "Don't spoil him too much, Saira. Otherwise his suit won't fit."

Player squeaks uselessly as Bellum grabs his shoulder and pulls him into a squeeze. "Don't worry, Cleo, sweets aren't the only kind of treats for young, inquiring minds."

"Don't forget to feed him," Brunt emphasizes. "Don't forget to feed _yourself_."

Player gulps and forces a smile. "How about you let me go and then you don't have to worry about that?"

Dead silence and humorless glares greet him.

He shrugs, accomplished by a nervous laugh and then a frown. "A kid can try?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That's how he finds himself with Coach Brunt as a guard while the rest of the faculty prepares for the next phase of their plan.

He's restrained to the chair again as Brunt paces the floor, mind in overdrive to figure out how he can escape and put Carmen under considerably less pressure. At the same time, he tries to quell the uneasiness in his gut over this whole fiasco and lets no one see just how scared he really is.

It's not that he doesn't trust that Carmen is going to come for him, he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that she is going to find a way to rescue him. Player fears what happens in the meantime. Carmen and the others are in Madagascar and they don't know where he is. The amount of analytics they'll have to comb through is usually his job, and Player knows they've got to be hurting and angry. He knows he would be if the situation were reversed.

Time is of the essence. Every minute counts if he wants Carmen to get closer to his location. She can't do anything to help him if she doesn't know where he is.

So he has to do something. A forested area allows for hiding places. It may be a long way from civilization, but he's learned enough from Carmen just by conversational chatting that he thinks he can handle a couple of days in the woods. He has no tech, but he still has his brain. Player doesn't remember much about Coach Brunt other than that she's a very emotionally sensitive person underneath her sturdy stature. She has the strength, but Player thinks he can hedge his bets that he's more clever.

He did break into their digital facilities when he was twelve, after all. Not that he's ready to tell them that.

"So...Coach. Can I call you Coach? How long is this next flight going to be?" he starts, testing the waters.

Brunt stops her pacing and actually smirks at him. "Don't think you'll be sweet talkin' anything out of me Sugar-pie. Just get comfortable."

Player bites the inside of his lip to hold back the sarcasm that threatens to push out of his mouth. The seat is objectively comfortable, but the way he's forced to sit in it leaves much to be desired. His mother is always urging him to remember his posture and he regrets not remembering it more.

"I have to use the bathroom. There isn't one on the plane - already checked," he says sourly.

Brunt unfurls her large, burly arms that Player is sure can and would crush him. He gulps, leaning back as much as he's afforded as she leans in, uncomfortably close to his wide eyes.

"You better not be thinking of pulling a fast one. I'm your teacher now, and I will give you a harsh lesson if you don’t behave."

"Ha," Player laughs humorlessly, hoping his fear isn’t showing too much. "No worries. I ace all my tests."

This is one that he can't fail, even if it's one he's not studied for and the odds are all against him.

The moment the cuffs unlock, Player sighs with relief. Just the freedom of being able to move his body is empowering enough.

A second later he hisses as Brunt squeezes a hand around his scratched shoulder. The wound throbs at the unnecessary pressure. Player shuts his eyes and sucks in a breath as if it would help manage the pain at all, but by the time he opens his eyes, Brunt is shoving him out the door.

Player stumbles down the stairs, inertia uninhibited as he seeks the railing for stability. His stomach drops as his foot catches air halfway down. 

The hard dirt makes contact with his outstretched arms and then face, pine needles scratching and poking into his hands and knees. Not even his sweatshirt saves his elbows from the hard landing. 

“Upsie Daisy,” Brunt says as she lifts Player effortlessly to his feet. “Do your business and get back on the plane.”

That’s not near enough time for a head start. Player hopes she takes her role as coach seriously. 

“Do you know how long I’ve been sitting? I’ve gotta get some exercise. You’re a coach - got a quick game to play?” he offers with the same forced smile of innocence he uses with his parents when he needs an excuse to leave the dinner table to help Carmen.

He stands on pins and needles as Brunt actually considers his suggestion. Player wanted this, but the way she smirks leaves him wondering if he’s made another miscalculation. 

“Okay Short Stuff,” she says slowly. Player doesn’t groan at the jab at his height only because there’s very distinct danger in the air. “If you wanna get your legs pumping, let’s dance.”

For one hopeful moment, Player thinks that maybe he’ll get away with square dancing away into the forest. All hope washes away in a tsunami as Brunt reaches into the pockets of her sweatpants and pulls out two blobs of something that looks like rubber. She squeezes them, and in an instant, they inflate to the size of her head. Player inhales sharply. Even as a homeschooler for life, he knows what game he’s about to play.

“Dodgeball time,” Coach Brunt says menacingly. 

Player screams and dodges the first ball by diving to his left. No sooner as he lifts himself up and looks up, that the second ball slams into his face. 

The impact is dizzying. Player thinks he might be on his back, but the colors and shapes around him make no sense as he groans, unable to feel his face. Though his body is out of sorts, his mind races and screams that he needs to get up and take this chance to run. 

“Aww, can’t play this game very well, can you?” Brunt taunts, her voice getting closer. Her skin rubs against the rubber ball, producing a hounding squeak while giving off the distinct scent of gymnasium. 

Player groans. He may be down, but he’s not without snark. “Hitting the face is against the rules.”

“Not here Sugar Pie, you gotta protect it yourself.”

Mind still swimming, Player gathers up all his energy and rolls. 

A split second later the unmistakable bounce of a dodgeball boinks against the ground where he’d just been. Player uses the momentum from the roll to scramble to his hands and knees, then push up to his feet, crashing into the woods before him. He has only a single goal: run. 

Player crashes into a number of trees before he gets his bearings back. The run pumps blood back into his brain allowing for clearer thought, one of his favorite lessons lovingly given to him by his parents. It hurts his heart just thinking of them, perhaps more than he ever realized as tears well up in his eyes and his chest begs for a sob. Perhaps he can afford it later, but not right now with Brunt barreling through the brush behind him. 

So he zips and zags, without a clue where he is, only that lost in the forest is more freedom than what VILE has planned for him. 

He runs and runs through an untamed brush, ignoring what’s probably poison oak against his bare legs and climbing only halfway down the side of a small waterfall. The strength in his arms gives out as he falls the rest of the way, landing sorely against the smooth rock. It hurts, but nothing feels broken. He can’t hear Brunt anymore, and it's only a matter of time before she’s alerted the others - probably already has. With their combined tech and knowledge of the area, they will find him. So he has to get as much distance between himself and them as possible. 

All of this gives Carmen precious time to get here. 

With heavy breath, Player gets up and starts walking. Time to conserve his energy. 

Nightfall comes as a double-edged sword. Between the drug-induced nap on the plane and Coach Brunt’s dodgeball, Player is disoriented. Without his phone, he can’t tell what time it is or where he is until the stars come out. Even so, for all he knows he could have been walking in this forest all day, or for just a few minutes. The full moon provides a blessed reflective light so that he can keep moving....south, he thinks. He still can’t see far, but neither can VILE. Player will see their searchlights from a mile away. 

The downside of nightfall is the unknown animals that come out. Exhausted, his size and demeanor makes him a tempting snack for a big enough predator. 

Player slumps heavy against a large tree trunk, closing his eyes for just a moment and refusing to sit down even though his legs feel like gelatin. The moment he sits down to soothe his itchy, sore, and probably bruised legs is the moment he falls asleep, vulnerable. Safety first. Find shelter if he’s going to sleep - something that’s well hidden. 

Allowing himself a few more greedy inhales and exhales that threaten to turn into sobs, Player clenches his first, but can’t quite find the energy to pull all of his fingers together. His eyes flicker open, far more wet than they were just a moment ago. 

“Hurry, Red. Please,” he begs foolishly. Player doesn’t even know where he is, how is Carmen supposed to figure it out so quickly?

Player trudges on, focusing on one foot in front of the other, keeping an eye out specifically for a place to rest. The treetops look tempting, leaves providing a canopy perfect for a hiding place. He entertains it for almost a whole ten seconds, before he tries to find a grip on one. His sneaker slides off the rough bark as if it were waxed. Player simply doesn’t have the energy to find refuge among the trees. 

Time is a blur, he isn’t sure how long he walks. Player is used to getting up at odd hours to help Carmen across time zones, but his brain is mush now. Maybe past this grove of trees there will be a place he can rest. He hopes. He prays. 

He receives. 

The lights are out, but this is unmistakingly a modern settlement. Houses line a small main street made of cobblestone. The style of house reminds him of fishing villages in northern Europe, but the biggest tip off is that all the signs are in English. The local tavern sign reads ‘McClain’s Brewery’ and Player sucks in a breath. He’s narrowed down where in the world he is to the northern United Kingdom. The only question is if he's far enough north to be in Scotland.

But the sight that brings him to tears of joy is the police call box twenty yards in front of him. 

Player takes what energy he has left in his legs and sprints to the phone, ripping the door open wildly. It doesn’t matter what public phone he uses, Carmen has a number he can reach. He’ll tell her where he is, stay put where there’s witnesses and this entire nightmare will be over. 

With heavy breaths he grabs the phone as if it were a lifeline and forces his shaking hands to dial. 

“Please, please pick up,” he whispers as he punches in the last number. Let this be done. Let him just have to figure out how to stay out of VILE’s sights and keep himself and his parents safe. 

His parents. Where is he even going to begin to explain that they have to go to the local police right away and contact ACME? Because they aren’t safe. All because he’s been moonlighting with his thief best friend who has a lot of really powerful enemies. 

That’s a problem for tomorrow’s Player. Current Player has to get himself out of VILE’s clutches first. 

Number dialed, Player brings the phone to his mouth and ears.

The floor disappears from underneath his feet. 

Player’s gut drops with it. It’s only just shy of a miracle that he has the presence of mind to grab hold of the phone. The muscles in his arms scream with pain holding the weight of his body as the cord that attaches the phone to the box pulls taut. Player hangs limp, using it as a rope. His screams of terror echo downward. 

Desperate for relief, his sneakers swing out, looking for a ledge, a wall, anything to ease the pain in his arms. Even in survival mode, he can feel his spirit breaking, looking up at the box through blurry vision. All of his running is for naught, this is a trap. Maybe it hadn’t been set for him, but there’s no doubt in his mind that falling will lead to either death, or right back to VILE. 

He hates himself for thinking death might be the better of the options, the dangerous road his mind travels down terrifying him. He can’t give up, even though his body begs him to.

“Help!” he yells. The phone booth might be a trap, but someone has to live here. “Somebody help!”

Almost too good to be true, footsteps approach, boots crunching the loose dirt below. Player grins, ready for relief. 

Two figures appear at the door to the booth and Player’s heart drops as quickly as his smile. 

“Bad move,” says one of the Cleaners. The other brandishes a pair of shears.

“No. No no no no,” Player gasps with wide eyes. 

The cord is cut, irreparably separating him from the outside world. 

Player screams. The weightlessness and unknown of how long he’s about to fall strikes terror through his heart. His limbs flail, searching for anything that might give him purchase. Fingers burn against the smooth metal walls of the trap. It catches his right leg awkwardly, sending a shooting pain from his ankle and through his veins. 

He throws his head back in pain, then nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Power of Friendship comes in handy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter. Let's take a trip down Player's memory lane. With the VILE faculty.

Everything hurts and that’s the first clue Player has that he’s not dead. 

If Carmen were in his place, she’d not make a sound and instead listen to her surroundings in order to discern where she is before making a move. Just like the greatest heroes from all the action movies.

Player has no such luxury or training. His groans border on whines, echoing loudly through his ears. His face contorts from the pain that mainly emanates from his right ankle. The throbbing pressure there tells him that even if he had the energy to get up from where he lies, he can’t walk on it - or at least well.

He stretches, or tries to, anyway. It’s part of his morning routine, but his arms and legs meet resistance.

“Good morning, Player,” greets Maelstrom, just as smug as before. 

Player’s eyes fly open, a gasp that sounds more terrified than he’d have liked to give escaping from his mouth, as he remembers his very dire situation. Maelstrom stands beside the metal bed he lies on, looming over him with authority. The rude awakening causes Player’s breath to hitch, but what strikes fear into his heart is how VILE has decided to address him by his codename. 

It feels wrong. His  _ friends _ call him Player and his enemies shouldn’t know he exists. The worst part is he doesn’t know if he prefers they use his given name instead. On one hand, it’s a constant reminder of how his parents are in peril now. He doesn’t want to forget them in his worry for Carmen. Even so, it doesn’t change the fact that VILE calling him by his codename sends chills down his spine. 

“I hope you enjoyed your little romp through the forest,” Maelstrom continues. Player enjoys how his smirk turns into a scowl. “You’ll be pleased to know you set us back significantly.”

Though there’s a healthy amount of fear in his heart, Player can’t help but let it wash away, knowing he can still be a pain for VILE without his tech. “Better company there,” he says bitterly. Regaining some energy from his little win, he tests the manacles that pin his wrists to the table. “Room service here is terrible.”

Rather than scowling, Maelstrom smirks. “You think you’re funny. Though I am not the one to which you should be bringing your grievances to. Dr. Bellum is quite upset that she can’t take you to her main laboratory in the interest of time.” Player sucks in a breath and tenses, futilely bracing himself as Maelstrom leans in uncomfortably close. “I would be on your best behavior.”

Player is aware of his held breath only when Maelstrom leaves his limited field of vision. His head lulls back to the metal table, eyes closed to relish in the momentary relief. 

“Dr. Bellum, are preparations complete?” Maelstrom asks. 

There’s an agitated growl from somewhere off to Player’s right. “Finally!” Dr. Bellum exclaims. “It would have taken me a quarter of the time if I’d had my best tools!”

The gentle swish of an automatic door is followed swiftly by Countess Cleo’s voice. “I hope we are not too late.”

“I believe we are just about to start, my dear colleagues,” Maelstrom answers. 

“Good,” Brunt says. “I can’t wait to see the little pipsqueak squirm.”

Player gulps, closing his eyes in an attempt to reign in his hurried breaths that grow faster as the horror of the now dawns on him. He refuses to make the assumptions his brain wants to jump to, but it is hard as soldering tools hum just out of his peripheral vision. So he doesn’t speak until he tells himself repeatedly that Carmen is coming, whether that’s sooner or later. She’s going to save him.

“What are you going to do?” he asks, amazed at how even his voice manages to be. His hands curl into fists in anticipation of the answer being interrogation. “I’m not telling you anything,” he adds firmly. Though he sounds brave, it is far from how he feels inside. This is something Carmen always warned him about, from the very beginning, something  _ she _ was terrified of  _ for _ him. It’s the worst nightmare for both of them and it's come true. 

Almost comically, Dr. Bellum pops into his field of vision with a bright smile on her face. “Oh no, don’t worry. If my device works the way it is supposed to, you won’t have to tell us anything. We’ll just  _ take  _ the information from you.”

Player’s mouth goes dry, hanging open like a gaping fish as he tries to work out what she means. “Wha--”

Bellum places a device over his eyes, curving around the shape of his face and covering his ears so that though his eyes are open, he sees only darkness. Her boots clack away before she asks casually, “Where should we start?”

“I would venture the first time he hears the name Carmen Sandiego,” Maelstrom says a bit boredly. 

“If we know how they met then we can properly leverage the rest of the information,” Cleo agrees. 

There’s a click, then Bellum’s voice. “Let’s find out!”

A flash of light emanates from within the device. Player screams at the sudden influx of light into his eyes. Electric-like impulses crackle painfully across his retina and into the optic nerves, on a direct path to his brain.

Then, as if he has gone back in time, he is sitting at his desk in his room. The soft, familiar glow of the monitor becomes a comfort as he steadies his breath. It’s different though. Player scratches his head to find he’s wearing a cap - his white hat. His arms are a bit chilly. He doesn’t wear his sweatshirt, just his old blue t-shirt. And he only has one monitor, prominently displaying a red hat somewhere east of the Canary Islands. 

It’s his set up before he and Carmen founded the team. And this is the  _ moment _ that happens.

The first time he hears the name Carmen Sandiego. 

_“You'll need a passport, and I don't think Black Sheep's gonna cut it,”_ Player hears himself say. He remembers feeling so on edge that day, realizing how much danger his best friend was in. He wants to help, needs to get her to safety so they can continue to be friends and talk every day about all the cool places in the world there is to see. _“You do have a name, don't you?”_

There’s a collective gasp from somewhere outside his room. VILE faculty, he realizes. He’s not actually in his room. He’s daydreaming with an audience. Bellum’s machine is allowing them to see what he sees in his mind’s eye. He can’t - he can’t stop the next part of the memory, it’s too strong.

_ “It's... Carmen. Carmen Sandiego. Now, about this whole white-hat thing... does it have to be white?” _

The memory fades slightly, as Player struggles to not remember the conversation that follows, intentionally flooding his mind with conversations with his mom, baking cookies with his grandmother, a birthday party for an age he doesn’t recall and receiving his first few computer parts to assemble himself. He rages when he finds out why his father isn’t ever coming home. His fingers fly across the keyboard to make sure he’s as miserable as he’s made him and his mother feel. He mourns--

Maelstrom chuckles. “Not such a pure heart after all.”

“Dial it back,” Coach Brunt’s voice echoes dangerously, as if it were disembodied. “He knew her before she took that fancy new name.”

Player screams, body clenching as the flash of light returns, resetting his brain. Involuntarily he latches onto Brunt’s statement. 

He’s back in his room and already typing across the keyboard. Young, still  _ mostly  _ innocent, smug, and confident. 

‘Better beef up your security’, he types. ‘I’m in’. 

Player groans, his mind a revolving door of memories. He can’t let them see. Not only does it compromise them both, but the time when it was just him and Carmen is something he cherishes above all else. He refuses to let VILE tarnish it. Warm apple pie. Grandpa gives him two scoops of ice cream instead of one. 

But it is because he cherishes the time so much that he cannot stop thinking about it. He had been smug that day, getting through all twenty-seven layers of encryption after almost a whole summer at problem solving. His mother would have been proud, if twelve year old Player had bothered to tell her. 

Leave a snarky response, let them stew over it. Then tell them what’s wrong, brag about it. Find a new challenge.

But…someone types back. And they aren’t angry like other entities have been. 

‘Got in? Where? Here?’

_ Younger me was so stupid _ , chides present Player. Anyone could have been on the other side.  _ Any  _ of the VILE faculty could have been on that other side. But he’s lonely. So he removes the anonymity of his voice, dangerous for any hacker, and calls. After all, he’s going to give them good news, a way to fix their security before someone with actual bad intentions comes along.

_ “Hello?” _

_ “H-hello?” _

The female voice sounds just as confused as the text and the conversation that follows is so seared into his memory that there is nothing he can do to stop it. 

_ “Who is this?” _

_ “Black Sheep.” _

_ “Come on,” _ he remembers rolling his eyes while also wondering what kind of top secret facility he’s found.  _ “what's your real name?” _

_ “Black Sheep!” _ she insists.

Weird, but he’s desperate for human contact and he is really curious about this place he spent the summer breaking into.  _ “Okay, usernames work. You can call me... Player.” _

“I’m going to kill the little weasel. He stole Black Sheep from us!” rough hands grab at his shoulders, reminding him of just why he can’t fall into the reverie. Player gasps moments before thick fingers tighten around his neck. 

They know. They  _ know _ . 

“No!” Bellum shouts desperately. “Do not impair the brain! We will lose the memories we need!”

Player inhales greedily as Brunt removes her hands. Even after the near death moment, even though his secret is out, he’s at peace. 

Because there is no point in holding back now. The rest of their conversation plays out before his eyes. 

_ “Are you punking me? Where are you calling from?” _

_ “My room,” _ he says as if it were obvious. To this day he isn’t sure what possesses him to say where he is, but even though it was stupid and naive of him, it’s the moment he makes his first real friend.  _ “In Niagara Falls.” _

_ A gasp. _

_ “Seriously? Which side of the falls?” _

Completely caught off guard by her enthusiasm, he can’t help but respond correctly,  _ “Canadian.” _

_ “You're in Ontario?” _ Black Sheep practically squeals in delight. Present Player knows now how much that meant to her, to be the first person from outside the island she’d met who wasn’t there for VILE business. 

_ “Whoa, you really know your geography,” _ Player responds limply, astounded at the direction the conversation is taking. She isn’t concerned at all about the digital security of where she lives, happily chatting away with a guy who broke in like some sort of criminal.

Which, now that Player looks back on it, made a lot of sense. 

“And these memories are more important than we realized,” Cleo says with a distinct awe of suddenly realizing exactly what kind of relationship he has with Carmen Sandiego. 

“I knew his voice sounded familiar,” Maelstrom quietly rages. “The  _ strudelhaus… _ ”

Player doesn’t want to be here. Every second he lies here he compromises everything Carmen is doing. He’s putting her in even more danger than normal, his brain informs him.

But his heart is reminiscing. And the longer he stays in his memories, the longer he delays facing the VILE faculty who now know  _ exactly _ who he is.

_ “What's it like there?” _ Black Sheep persists. 

_ “It's alright,” _ he finds himself saying, far more comfortable than he should be. It’s nice to be asked questions by someone, for them to show interest in him.  _ “We have computers, and internet, and… Hey, where in the world are you?” _ Where is this place that needs so much security?

_ “School.” _

“I suppose we should be thankful the situation didn’t get out of control sooner,” Dr. Bellum observes. “These memories are dated before Black Sheep officially enrolled.”

Player tries to focus on the immediate aftermath of this particular conversation, fast forwarding to taking out the trash for his mother. 

“Keep going Dr. Bellum,” Maelstrom says slowly, dangerously. “I want to know everything about the boy and his relationship with Carmen Sandiego.”

Everything? Player smirks despite the situation. Everything is a long list and he can use that to stall. Starting with all the questions Black Sheep wanted to know the answers to.

_ “Do you watch hockey? Does it snow there all the time? Have you seen the northern lights? _ ”

He's been teased more times than he can count about not watching hockey despite being Canadian, but he can't watch it and not remember how big of a fan his biological father was.

_ “Oh my goodness. Poutine sounds delicious! Way better than the rice here!” _

Player hums and his stomach rumbles. He can practically taste the saltiness of the fries and feel the gravy sliding down the side of his mouth.

_ “We’re getting some when you can finally visit!”  _ Player tells her excitedly, his mind zeroing in on one of the local restaurants. He must keep his mind rambling about the inconsequential things.  _ “The diner near the high school does it best!” _

They have so many conversations about food, about how bad it tastes where she is and Player wishing she could enjoy his step-father’s meatloaf.

_ “It’s not awful and clumpy,” _ he tells her.  _ “He bakes it in a really good sauce! And Mom would love it if I invited a friend over!”  _

He’s never had a good enough friend to want to invite over for dinner. Until now. Black Sheep really does know her geography and Player finds the list of places he wants to visit growing each day.

_ "Where's the first place in the world you want to go visit?" _

_ "Buenos Aires, Argentina. I was born there, so I really want to go see it someday!" _

_ "Argentina! That's so cool! The further south you get, the more it's like Canada! We could have both been born in the same climate zone!" _

_ "Where do you want to go, Player?" _

_ "Uh..." _ he has to think about this. He's twelve at the time. He knows his parents can't afford to travel much, so any of those plans he has to put on the back burner until he's an adult with money and a job himself. Or wins a vacation. So he's never really thought about where he'd like to go.  _ "I guess I'd like to go see one of those video game tournaments in South Korea,"  _ he finally says. Player remembers his heart growing light as ideas flood into his mind about where to go.  _ "Or the gaming cafes in Japan, or even the arcades in--" _

Black Sheep laughs.  _ "I'm sensing a pattern." _

Embarrassment fills his cheeks, both on past and present Player.  _ "Okay so I like gaming. But I really want to fill up my passport with stamps one day." _

There's a moment of silence before she responds,  _ "Maybe someday I can help you do it. I'd love a travel partner, and I can't think of anything better than seeing the world with my best friend. Tomorrow all I have to do is pass my exams, and I'll get the opportunity!" _

"Best...friend?" Coach Brunt spits out, dragging Player back to his current predicament.

Player knows he's doomed, but hearing the emphasis Brunt places on Carmen's past words makes his heart flutter. She  _ is _ his best friend. And no matter what, he's not going to let these people use her again.

So he grits his teeth, filling his mind willing any random conversations they've had about the places they want to visit most. Player tells her about the map he's hung up over his bed, so he can place pins where Carmen visits, because although he's still in school, he promises to be in her ear wherever she goes.

“Is this seriously all they talked about?" Cleo ponders aloud. "He's clearly been helping her. See if you can find the juicy bits, Saira."

"Ask him what you want to know," Dr. Bellum instructs casually and confidently. "His mind will be unable to stop himself from thinking about it."

Boots walk heavy across the metal flooring of Bellum's lab, getting louder by the moment. Player grunts, pulling at his restraints again even though he knows it’s useless. His body screams to run away, the nervous energy that would be expended by running instead swells in his gut as he can only squirm in place. Memories of calling Carmen’s phone short circuit in his mind's eye, flashing of static like flipping channels on an old antenna television.

The boots stop close by, the noise echoing ominously through the lab. Player's throat catches the old musky smell, making it difficult to swallow. Shades of the feeling of decay and death fall upon the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"As someone who has been in contact with her for so long, tell me," Maelstrom begins slowly, methodically, "where in the world  _ is  _ Carmen Sandiego?"

For the first time since he was twelve, Player doesn't know the answer to that question, and it is something he is incredibly grateful for. Carmen is safe, even if they can look into his memories, VILE won't know where she is.

"I'm not telling you," Player bites back. Maelstrom can’t see the glare that Player gives him from behind Bellum’s device, but it is the nastiest one that he can muster. 

“Very well,” he says in a manner that indicates he has no patience to be playing games. “Take them all.”

The effect is immediate. Player screams as the bright light shines like a thousand needles pricking at his eyes. He hates that VILE’s plan works as intended, and his mind reaches out for comfort. Because right now, the memories of Carmen are a comfort to him. They are his and hers, the moments they shared together in the wake of her escape from VILE Island. 

_ “I wouldn’t miss a night out on the town with you for the world, Red.” _

And he still means that with all of his heart. So before his mind replays past Poitiers, the Eye of Vishnu, the absolute terror of Carmen going suddenly radio silent, he gathers all of his will, all of the most treasured memories and locks them away into a vault inside of his mind. He puts on layers upon layers of security and locks it with the most special of keys. 

“ _...my best school friend _ ,” Black Sheep corrects. “ _ You’ll always be my best friend. _ ”

Still, the flashing light pokes and prods, somehow finding each and every correct combination to unlock the vault. Player grunts and groans, making any noise he can to filter out Maelstrom’s voice as he lists off so many of Carmen’s past counter-capers.

“Poitiers, Jakarta, Amsterdam, Sydney, Rio…”

Player’s mind threatens to burst in his attempt to protect his memories. Tears prick at his eyes. No matter how much he wants the excruciating pain to be over with, he can’t give up. Carmen is counting on him. He’s the one who’s screwed up and he has to hold out as long as possible for rescue. 

He isn’t sure what he’d do without her. 

All Player knows is that he doesn’t want the future VILE has scripted for them. Even before he met Carmen, there existed a spark of joy in his heart the day he learned about white hat hacking. No more did he have a feel of guilt as he pursued the hobby, but a sense of pride in the challenge and the prospect of helping people. VILE would ask him to hurt, and he’d do it, because Carmen means the world to him. 

VILE may have their hands full catching Carmen, but they’re about to find out they don’t have a third hand to contain  _ him _ . 

“Get out of my head!” he yells, pushing back against the needles of light. “Leave Carmen alone!”

The pressure releases from his mind and there’s a distinctive crack. The bright light of inside Bellum’s machine switches off and the darkness breaks away as the device snaps in half and each end falls to opposite ends of Player’s head. He’s back in the lab. Still strapped down to the table, and at the mercy of a wide eyed and furious looking Maelstrom, but his memories are his own again.

Carmen is safe again. That’s all that matters. 

So he lets the tears flow, even though he’s far from safe. 

There’s no way he can hide his sorry state from his enemies, but his head rolls to the side in an attempt to nestle his tears into his arm. The uneven rise and fall of his chest preoccupies his fried mind. They very nearly had inside information to how Carmen foiled caper after caper. 

But as Maelstrom’s boney hands reach under his chin and force Player to look into his enraged eyes, he can’t feel as confident as he was just moments ago in breaking Bellum’s device. Because although they don’t know the hows, VILE knows how his friendship with Carmen began and what it means to them both.

They have everything that matters.

“I’d rather kill him,” Coach Brunt says bluntly. 

“I’m not sure we want Carmen Sandiego enraged,” Cleo advises. “She knows too much. Our only good fortune is that she’s not felt the urge to involve the authorities  _ yet _ .”

“I’m in agreement,” Maelstrom says with a distinctly regretful tone. “We must tread carefully. The opera goes on as planned. Once both of them are safely under VILE control, there will be no turning back for either.”

It is difficult to focus. All Player really wants is to melt away from this awful scene so he can recharge emotionally. But in this moment he forces his glare back in place. While he may be helpless physically, he is by no means a pushover. VILE might know everything, but that means that Player no longer has to hold anything back. 

He huffs, and his vocal cords are dry and sore, but he makes sure the entire faculty can hear his cracked whisper, “Your security system has a weak link,” he says, finally able to deliver his four year old message to the right people. “Twenty-seven layers is useless if you single modulate.”

Player takes victory in their shocked faces, grinning triumphantly as he finally gives in to his weary body and closes his heavy eyelids. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for an opera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around! Enjoy the finale!

It’s hot. Uncomfortably so. 

Time passes in a blur, and Player isn’t sure if he dreams Dr. Bellum shining lights into his eyes and feeding him soup. His stomach isn’t full, but he’s not hungry. 

There are soft blankets beneath him, so much so that Player nearly mistakes it for his own bed. His right leg is noticeably cooler than his left, elevated as if it were healing from a broken bone or a strain. He should probably be in the hospital for that. But even though he swims through his own disjointed thoughts, he remembers where he is. The issue is that he just doesn’t have the energy to get up, not for a long while. Not since he last played that Destroyers marathon has he sat still for so long. 

In his groggy state, unable to do anything, he forces himself to relax. It’s all better if he saves his energy for when he really needs it. There will be no escaping from VILE until they try to collect Carmen. 

If he can escape.

Worry still creeps in that VILE will have too much of an airtight plan. They weren’t supposed to know he exists, that was the entire bedrock on which he and Carmen built their operation. As an unknown, he could help  _ her  _ escape...but the secret is out now, in painfully obvious detail. 

Player shivers. It’s not so warm anymore, the comfort of his blankets providing a contrast to the colder air. 

Rain pounds against stone, somewhere near, and he can even smell the faint aroma of fresh grass after a storm. 

For the first time in what seems like forever, he opens his eyes for longer than five seconds. 

His foot is indeed in a sling, wrapped in bandages. The blankets are old fashioned, made of wool so thick that Player’s small body nearly sinks into them as if he were slipping to the bottom of a bowl.

The clanking of iron on iron reaches his eyes, ringing loud and clear and close. A moment later, the thick door swings open slowly, a testament to how heavy and secure it is. To keep prisoners in. 

“Good morning! I see the sedative has started to wear off just on time,” Dr Bellum says enthusiastically. 

Player keeps his eyes trained on the wide open door longingly as Bellum arrives at his bedside. He ponders escape as she digs through her bag of tools, seemingly unworried about him making any attempts for escape. Sedative explains why he doesn’t remember much lately and adds a new fear - how much time has passed? 

He isn’t going anywhere, not with how his limbs refuse to move. Player licks his lips and tests his unused voice. “Wh-h--ti,” but he can’t seem to get past the first part of any word, even if it is only one syllable. 

“Your body has been in stasis for nearly one week,” Bellum provides easily enough. “But it's time to wake up now. You have an opera to attend.”

One week of his life, gone. Even though his eyes have been closed a lot lately, they are easy to shut again. His heart aches for what Carmen must be going through. Soon she’s going to have to make an impossible decision, and Player won’t be any help to her.

No, he knows she’ll choose him no matter what. That is no consolation. He may live through this, but the trade off is working for VILE, and that makes him sick. 

The only relief he has is that VILE would not have been able to take any more of his memories as he slept. 

Player winces half-heartedly as a needle pokes into his arm and Bellem injects a clear liquid. “This will wake you a bit faster.”

He has no energy to ask why VILE would want him awake and aware at this point so close to their planned caper. He has to know. Any detail he can gleam from their plan is one more advantage he and Carmen have over them.

The sharp, distinctive click of high heels echoes through the dungeon, where Player supposes he is. It's a strange juxtaposition to be in such a medieval place as he’s being treated with modern medicine and Countess Cleo arrives wearing a very modern dress. In her hands she holds a garment bag, and lays it next to him on the bed.

“The plane departs in one hour. Get yourself dressed appropriately,” she tells him.

Player narrows his eyes, words about Cleo not being his mother forming on his lips...only for nothing to come out. His mouth is dry and sore. The subsequent cough forces air through his throat as if rubbing on a raw wound. 

“Careful, careful,” Bellum soothes. “You’ll want to be able to scream on cue later.” She hovers over him, a small yellow candy between her fingertips. “Have this.”

His lips offer no protest despite his brain screaming for them to. The moment he swallows, sweet relief coats his throat. If there’s anything nefarious in this, it’s too late. Player moves the drop into his cheek and tries his very best not to swallow.

“Your body will be ready to move in a few minutes,” Bellum says cheerfully as she fusses near his leg. Elevated, he can see the cast in place that she now removes. “I’ll be watching to monitor your progress. Test as many motor skills as you can. Strangely, the pinky always comes back last, and sometimes not at all.”

Both are gone as quickly as they came, locking the door behind them. If not for the cough drop in his mouth, Player might have believed it all a dream. 

Minutes tick by, and true to Bellum’s word, Player’s energy returns bit by bit, until finally he sits up in bed. 

The prison cell is about the size of his room at home. His bed is on the wall adjacent to the door, so that’s the first thing he sees as he sits up. Twisting around, there is a narrow barred window extraordinarily similar to the one in his room back home. Through it Player can see grey skies, overgrown grass hanging through the bars and water falling into the back of the cell like a poor imitation of Niagara Falls. 

All the trappings of home. 

Finally, there’s the garment bag left by Countess Cleo. Player tentatively pulls it closer and partially unzips it. Inside is a nice black suit and white button up, something even he wouldn’t be out of place with at a formal gathering. A longing sigh escapes his lips as he gingerly cups the red tie into his hand. 

At least they gave him the right color. 

Though he loathes taking orders from VILE, both Countess Cleo and Dr. Bellum have good points. He needs his motor skills back, and if dressing up will appease his captors long enough to keep his mind and body active, then they’ll play along. 

He’s going to miss his sweatshirt though, old and thin as it is. It’s his mission wear, and that’s sentimental enough. 

Slowly he swings his legs over the side of the bed. Straw cuts into his bare legs and dispurses under the blankets. He supposes it’s better than the floor.

The first order of business is wiggling his toes. Now that the cast is removed, they are freezing cold. Stiff, but there is no pain as he rotates his foot around his ankle. 

“I really hope there’s nothing weird in there,” he hopes. The fact that it’s actually more likely than nothing having been done to him churns his stomach. A calming gulp works it’s way down his throat as he reaches for the slight bump in his ankle that he doesn’t remember being there before. Smooth. If there’s something there other than his healing wound, he can’t feel it. 

The most important question is: can he run?

Very slowly, Player leans back while extending his injured ankle towards the floor. Wincing in anticipation, lip bit in hope, he applies pressure while he’s still seated on the bed. 

Nothing. 

Player sighs in relief and stands, keeping balance on the un injured leg. With a deep breath he takes his first tentative steps.

“Ah!” He yelps. His legs are weak from lack of use, and he crashes into the wall across from the bed, crumbling to the floor. His pinky finger scrapes awkwardly against the wall, the stinging burn telling him that he’s recovered from the sedative fully.

Player growls in frustration and slaps a hand against the wall. “C’mon, you can’t make Red do more work than she has to.”

He picks himself up and tries again. Leaning against the wall helps, and soon his muscles remember what it feels like to walk. 

Arriving under the small window, Player’s heart twists as he looks up. If the locked door wasn’t a testament to his horrible situation, the thick bars across the window are. 

He’s a hacker. He picks digital locks, not manual ones; the other side of Carmen’s coin in every way. 

How did it come to this? 

Player hasn’t had much time to think on Maelstrom’s words. And as much as he tries to recall, he can’t recall anything specific and for sure that would have gotten him exposed. 

Maybe it doesn’t even matter. Even if he escapes, VILE will be after him and his family. There won’t be a safe place on Earth for him, except by Carmen’s side. 

Player briefly entertains the thought of going into hiding with his parents. _Would you like to move_ _somewhere warmer_ , he would ask. _San Diego is lovely all year round_. 

Regardless he’s going to have to come clean to them. They’re in just as much danger as he is now, and all because of a slip up on his part. He’s homeschooled, so there’s minimal people he needs to explain things to. The only other viable option is to inform ACME. Maybe they’d put him and his parents in some kind of witness protection. 

But then he’d never see Carmen again, and they would never take down VILE for good. The former ices his veins far more than the latter. She means more to him than he can possibly express, showing up in his life exactly when he needed a friend.

The thud of rainfall and cloudy sky gives a somber ambiance to his already heartbroken thoughts. Player narrows his eyes in determination. As gloomy as it is, rain at its heart is revitalizing. 

He and his family, blood and otherwise, will only grow from this. 

Player stands on his tip toes and reaches for the bars. Pulling himself up, he gets exactly the glimpse he needs. He’s still in the forest of northern UK, which means they never took him to Bellum’s lab - wherever that was. It’s information he’ll need when he escapes. 

With the scene stored into his memory banks, Player lets himself down gently. His eyes wander to the deflated bed and the garment bag on top. 

He sighs, shoulders slumped as he pads back towards the bed. “Only way I’m getting out is the opera, I guess.” He gulps, a sickening churn in his stomach. It would be foolish to think he’ll have any sort of opportunity to escape while under VILE’s close watch, and yet to be out in public is his best chance. The only sliver of hope he has is that Carmen is coming for him.

The latest in a long series of things that she intends to steal back from VILE. 

Player takes a deep breath and unzips the remainder of the garment bag. As he unfurls the black slacks, he wants to say he’s only playing this part for a bit longer, but he won’t be. He’s a known entity now. There’s no reason why he can’t play dress up and go to fancy parties undercover like the rest of the team. 

He misses his dark little cave.

When Countess Cleo returns for him, the Cleaners at her sides, Player has just strung the silky red tie loosely around his neck. The collar of the white button up shirt is flipped up, providing an even smoother surface than his skin for the tie to slide on. 

It’s an awful predicament, but her astonished face gives Player enough energy to unleash at least part of his spite. “It’s polite to knock,” he glares. “I could have been in my underwear.”

Cleo hums agitatedly. “Do you even know how to tie that properly?”

The glare turns into a smirk as Player effortlessly makes a windsor knot with the silky material. “I know how to tie a tie,” he replies smugly as he flips the collar down, delighted to have found something that surprises VILE, albeit temporarily. 

“...Acceptable,” Cleo begrudgingly admits, collecting the suit jacket off the makeshift bed and handing it to him. “Presentable for what you’re needed for, at least.”

Any sort of victorious feeling flits away at her words. He accepts the jacket reluctantly, fitting his arms into the sleeves as the Cleaners flank him, pressing him forward immediately after its secure. 

Player says an internal goodbye to his old clothes, sparing as much of a last glance as he can before following the Countess down the dungeon hallway. Out of his environment, his clothes, and his general comfort zone, Player walks out of the frying pan and into the fire. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

It could be worse, Player tells himself as he boards the private jet and is shackled to a chair. There’s only two Faculty here instead of four. Brunt and Bellum have no interest in the opera. He tells them the chains will wrinkle his suit. They don’t let him go.

It could be worse, Player tells himself when he wakes up in the back of a limousine after being sedated for an unknown length of time. They couldn’t have searched his memories while he’d been unconscious. 

Countess Cleo and Professor Maelstrom share a bottle of wine next to him, one of the Cleaners across from him watching his every move. 

Player takes a moment to catch his breath after the frightful wake up, not knowing where he was. He knows now. He recognizes several of London’s landmarks. 

It could be worse. He’s in a densely populated area, Interpol’s backyard, a place Carmen has been to already a few times. Player knows the boroughs of London well. 

But VILE still holds all the cards. Him.

His eyes drop to the door handle, and then to the Cleaner. They may be in the middle of London traffic, but Player prefers his chances with the other drivers over VILE. 

Teeth grit with determination, his hands dart to the handle. It turns down and Player pushes into the door with all his might, ready to throw himself down on the pavement. No sooner does he hear the rumble of tires on concrete, the rev of engine and the honking of horns, that his wrist is snatched and the door is closed.

“Ah!” he yells, tear pricking at his eyes at the sheer amount of force inflicted upon his extremely delicate wrists. Wrists he needs to be healthy to type fast and run background checks for Carmen and book her chartered flight and it  _ hurts _ …

“You are a very naughty boy,” Cleo says with mock disappointment. “I hope your behavior is less uncouth during the performance.”

Player inhales through his nose, opening his eyes to glare at the grinning faces of VILE’s faculty. “You aren't getting Carmen,” he declares for what feels like the millionth time. “She’s going to outsmart you like she always does.”

Maelstrom leans back into his seat. “Yes, she is one of our best,” he concedes. “But she doesn’t have her little secret weapon this time. No more hiding behind your monitor of anonymity. She will be coming home with us, and you will continue to be a little gem of a hostage. It has been a while since we’ve been treated to such helpless defiance.” He turns to the Countess. “It’s rather refreshing, isn’t it?” He side-eyes Player’s rigid body with a smirk. “I’m going to enjoy watching them both  _ break _ .”

Player’s breath catches in his throat, eyes wide. He needs to get out. He needs to get out…

Countess Cleo rolls her eyes. “We are here,” she declares with some measure of relief. 

The limo has parked at a back entrance, as close to the door as it can possibly get. Even so, Player uses the precious few moments it takes for him to be forcibly escorted across the threshold to search the rooftops nearby, hoping to catch a sight of the familiar red trench coat and fedora.

If Carmen’s not already inside, Player doesn’t see her. But he doesn’t have to. He knows she’s here. The Cleaner drags him by the arm to one side of the hallway, allowing Countess Cleo to pass by. Player is made to resume his walk with Professor Maelstrom right behind. 

What would Carmen do right now? Improvise. Use the surroundings. Distract. 

“So,” Player begins, as casual and as confident as he can be even though he feels as if he’s walking into a death trap. “What’s stopping me from screaming for help right now?” Get a sense of their plan. Chances are Carmen is listening.

“Most of the staff is on VILE payroll,” Cleo answers without turning around. “If they value their job, they will stay out of our way.”

Player slumps, dragging his feet ever so slightly, testing his limits. “Worth a shot,” he sighs dejectedly. “I’ve never been to a fancy opera house before. Do we have good seats?”

“A private box,” Maelstrom replies. “I hope you have a healthy fear of heights. There are many tragedies that might have been averted if not for inquiring minds and thrillseekers who stray too close to the edge.”

Player knows a threat when he hears one, so he zips his lips shut. If Carmen was listening, she’ll know where to go at least. 

Not a soul passes them as they descend staircase after staircase, railings trimmed in gold and layered in red carpet - his friends’ colors. Player tries to take comfort in that simple fact, eyes constantly roving the area in search of any of them. Climbing higher and higher does little for his nerves. There are a lot of threats that can be made when the bait hangs from a great height. 

Maelstrom finally strides past and gentlemanly slides a black curtain out of the way for Cleo to walk past. It isn’t long before Player is right behind her and he sees their game. 

It’s a box seat, sectioned off from all the other guests, complete with four red and gold covered plush seats. The stage sits far below, just to the right. Though the view is stunning, Player gulps as he looks down...far, far down at the mezzanine. 

“Have a seat, Mr Bouchard,” Maelstrom says, startling Player as boney, chilly fingers rest lightly on his back, urging him forward. “It will not be long before the opera starts.”

Player barely keeps himself from tripping, twisting to glare at the evil man even as he complies with the unspoken order to move. “She knows this is a trap. She won’t show,” he lies.

“Carmen Sandiego has one weakness,” Countess Cleo says from her seat, her focus on the stage, posture proud and elegant. “She cares too much.

“It is why she never graduated,” Maelstrom agrees. “But with the proper,” he pauses, pressing down on Player’s shoulder with force, and Player sits onto the plush seat next to Cleo with a thud, “motivation,” Maelstrom nearly whispers into his ear, “anyone can be made to do anything.”

“Her skills are best put to use where they are most valued,” Cleo adds. Her eyes rove his way, narrowing. “Do not blow this for us.”

Maelstrom takes a seat on Player’s other side. He sits back and crosses his legs, fingers tapping together in a most diabolical pose. “Sit back and enjoy the third and final act.”

A shadow fixates at Player’s feet and he can feel the looming presence behind him. The Cleaners are here as extra guards. He’s surrounded on all sides, trapped. But even as the house lights go out, the spotlights appear on stage, and the master of the house appears in person to ask for silence from the audience, Player’s eyes never stop wandering. Watching. Searching. He knows she’s here, and he wants to be rescued, but above all he wants Carmen to be safe. 

“Esteemed guests, may I humbly present to you our master of ceremonies for this evening,” the manager declares. “The Duke of Vermeer!”

As the audience politely claps, Players’s eyes widen in recognition and zip to the stage. Sure enough, Zack walks out confidently and exchanges pleasantries with the manager. There’s a gasp, and for a moment Player thinks he’s given his friend away, but it isn’t his voice.

“My, my, it has been a while,” Cleo says, delighted. “I was just thinking of the dear Duke the other day.”

Her ignorance does little to calm Player’s heart as Zack walks up to the microphone and greets the audience in that perfectly practiced sophisticated voice. 

“With this evening’s performance, I am honored to present the most odious descent into the Underworld that the opera has yet seen. Not only will our players be transported, but you as well.” Player doesn’t have to be close up to know Zack is smirking and playing it up to the best of his ability. The audience eats it up, giggling politely at the announcement. 

Player doesn’t miss the message. There’s a plan. While there’s more hope in his heart than there has been in the last week, it still means Carmen is here and in danger. 

“Be careful, Red,” he says quietly to himself, watching Zack disappear backstage. 

The curtain rises to an idyllic stage. The scene features two lovers frollicking in the meadow, enjoying each others’ company. There’s lots of kissing and dancing and romantic sighs from the chorus, but Player can’t understand a word of it without his translation software. 

“Do you speak Italian?” Maelstrom’s voice asks in a way that says he already knows the answer, so Player purses his lips together and refuses to look his way and respond. Unfortunately, Maelstrom takes it as a sign to continue. “It is Orfeo and Euridice’s wedding day,” he explains. “Life is just beginning for the happy couple. Innocent of what is to come.”

Player isn’t stupid. Just because he’s never been to an opera before doesn’t mean he hasn’t taken high school literature classes. He’s spent hours going back and forth with his mother on themes within books and plays, and he catches onto this one immediately. It isn’t a stretch to realize something is about to go horribly wrong for Orfeo and Euridice, and that he and Carmen are their real life stand-ins for Maelstrom’s sick little lesson. 

Except that he and Carmen aren’t so innocent. They both have wicked skills that are questionable in the public eye, pressing on to use them for good so people like those he currently sits next to can’t take priceless artifacts away forever and ruin the lives of others. Carmen had her wake up call in Morocco. Player had his on the day he discovered why exactly his father ran off. And that’s what VILE doesn’t know. He’s fueled by spite too, and isn’t afraid to take action. 

The underworld of VILE will not be their destination. 

At least, he hopes, with whatever Carmen has planned. 

So he plays his part just as the actors play theirs. 

There are only two steps to the edge of the box’s balcony that overlooks the rest of the house, not enough room for an adult to maneuver around, but Player fancies himself small enough to dash around if given the chance. Height wise, there’s plenty of clearance for a backflip - if he can get high enough. The back of the chair will make a good stepping stone. 

“Eyes forward,” Cleo insists. “Do not insult the actors.” The Cleaner behind Player gives him no choice, forcibly directing his head towards the stage. 

“The scene is changing anyway,” Player bites back. Though the music continues, the set changes rapidly while the actors find new positions. 

“You’ll miss the best part,” Maelstrom says, licking his lips devilishly. “Euridice is about to be mortally wounded by snakebite.”

Minutes later Orfeo is lamenting, and Player winces as Maelstrom draws breath to speak again. “Sounds just as horrific as your friend when we spoke over the phone,” he comments cruelly. “And look at that determination in his eyes, ready to get his bride back no matter the cost.”

“Not nearly as horrific as you’ll scream if you hurt him.”

Player’s heart bursts with joy and near disbelief at finally hearing his best friend without the digital filters. “Red!” he exclaims, whipping his upper body around to greet her. The Cleaner behind him not only obstructs part of his view, but also holds fast to his arm, ensuring he won’t be able to escape right at this moment.

Instantly her hardened expression melts at the sight of him. “Player, are you hurt?”

For a half second, he debates lying to her. The pain VILE put him through to see his memories absolutely counts and he knows that would fuel Carmen to deliver some hurt to his captors. But...he’s okay for now. And Carmen doesn’t need any more anger impairing her judgement. 

“I’m fine,” he responds reluctantly. Worry begins to overtake the joy in his heart. Carmen must have a plan, but here she is dressed not in her signature work outfit, but an elegant gown. It certainly wouldn’t be the first caper she’s completed this way, but Player hates being out of the loop. He’s  _ never _ out of the loop. 

“A pleasure that you decided to join us Ms Sandiego,” Maelstrom greets. “Please, have a seat and enjoy the remainder of the performance with us. I think you will find it quite pertinent to the situation,” he finishes as he turns around, attention once again on the opera. 

The Cleaner confiscates her red wrist wallet, which she gives up easily, and walks herself to the seat vacant next to the Countess. 

“It’s nice to see you remembered some of my lessons,” Cleo says with disdain.

“Oh I remembered everything you all taught me,” Carmen says as she takes a seat. “That’s your downfall.” Then she looks Player in the eye, and gives him the first genuinely friendly smile he’s seen in a week. It warms his heart, so he smiles back gratefully. But he doesn’t quite feel happy. 

Maelstrom hums as Orfeo raises his fist and makes some sort of declaration. “He is stating his intentions to rescue Euridice from the Underworld...and should he prove unsuccessful, remain there with her for eternity.”

On stage, Orfeo confronts and sings to a very scary man next to a boat.

“I think you have proven your point, Professor,” the Countess informs him. “We have what we came for. It is time to leave.”

Player’s face drops. No. This can’t be it. 

But Carmen is as cool as a cucumber, her eyes fixated on stage. “Not going to stay and see what happens when Orfeo crosses the river Styx?” she asks. 

“I would be pleased to play the remainder of the opera on the plane,” Maelstrom says as he stands. “But in summary, he fails to rescue Euridice, just as you have failed to rescue your friend.”

Orfeo cheers as the man by the boat falls asleep and he takes it for himself to cross into the Underworld. 

“I wasn’t talking about the play,” Carmen says coyly. 

It is difficult to see in the darkness, but Player recognizes the mechanical whirr multiplied by one hundred; Red Drone.Or, Red  _ Drones _ , actually. Maybe it's because he’s used to the banter with his friends mid-caper, but it’s far too easy to hear Ivy’s proud voice in his head telling the team that Red Drone has become a mother.

With an echoing hiss, the view becomes hazy. The audience ohs and awes with wonder, but within the private box, Player understands that this is the plan. Soon he can’t see any members of VILE thanks to the extra thick fog within the box. He turns around and makes his leap over the chair uninhibited, scrambling straight ahead - or what he thinks is straight ahead - for the exit. 

Kicks and punches reverberate off the walls, sounds he’s used to, being on the other side of Carmen’s comm since the beginning. Player makes himself small against the floor, crawling forward as fast as he can. He encounters Carmen’s red wallet first, open and emitting large quantities of stage smoke. Leaving it there, he scurries as fast as he can. He’s the liability here. Once he’s out of VILE’s grasp, it frees Carmen up to do what she needs to do. That means he needs to take care of his own rescue. He can’t be caught again, not under any circumstances. 

Player halts, inhaling sharply as a dagger drops haphazardly to the floor right in front of him. Unrecognizable feet stomp and fists connect above him, but his eyes are only for the blade. Gritting his teeth, he takes it by the hilt. He can’t get caught again. No matter what.

A small hand grabs hold of his shoulder, threatening to drag him up. Filled with self preservation, Player pulls back, dragging his captor back down to the floor. “I’m not going back!” he declares furiously, pointing the blade downwards in threat. He can’t fool around with this.

A different kind of blade, a fan, begins to blow the smoke away. Player comes face to face with his captive, horrified. 

“I won’t let you,” Carmen promises softly. “I promise I’m not leaving you.”

He can’t breathe. He can’t move. All he can do is stare at the blade he holds against his best friend’s very exposed throat. The worst is that she isn’t even mad at him. Her eyes hold concern and an apology. As if he shouldn’t need to for having her life in his hands.

“Oh this is good,” Countess Cleo purrs from across the box. “They’ve done the work for us.”

Player throws the blade to the side and scrambles backwards, his only thought to get the danger away from Carmen. But no sooner as he does so, much larger hands grab hold of his armpits and lift him to his feet. 

“A decent attempt, but you cannot expect to fool your own instructors,” Maelstrom chides with an evil grin. He remains by the seats. “Perhaps we need a more life-like performance of L’Orfeo. Our Euridice isn’t anywhere  _ near _ dead.”

“No!” Carmen cries out, making the connection before Player does. But it soon becomes obvious as he’s dragged towards the edge of the box.

Player drags his feet until the Cleaner’s vice grip clamps down around his wrist. He’s lifted off his feet and dangled over the edge, so that there is no floor between his body and the edge of the orchestra pit, which, even though he can’t see past the fog, is a long, very long, way down. He’s really not sure if he can survive it if they let go, and that stuns him into uncharacteristic silence. Carmen is doing the speaking for him regardless. 

“If you let him fall, you won’t ever get me,” Carmen threatens dangerously. There’s an edge to her voice that shows she isn’t about to mess around.

As glad as Player is that she’ll avenge him, he really hopes it won’t come to that. 

“The time to descend into the Underworld is now,” Maelstrom says gleefully. “Turn yourself in to Boris and we will head home, your little hacker in tow. Turn around to look for him and, like Orfeo, you will lose him forever. But should you follow instructions, he will be right behind you.”

There’s a huff from behind him. “I am Boris. He is Vlad.”

Player knows Carmen better than he knows himself. He makes sure to lock eyes with her one last time. There are no words that need to be shared that haven’t already been spoken between them. Both of them know how important it is that VILE doesn’t win. She frowns, but her eyes shine with an apology.  _ I’m sorry. _

Player smiles back with reassurance. _ I trust you, _ he tries to say, because he does so with his life. Carmen always has a plan, and it's the very least he can do after she trusts her life in his hands every caper. 

He prepares himself mentally for the drop as Vlad ushers Carmen towards the door. She looks back, tears in her eyes and weight on her left foot, ready to pounce. 

“A pity,” Cleo sighs. “Saira was so looking forward to a new favorite.”

Everything in his gut rushes to his throat as gravity claims him.

“Player!” Carmen screams.

But he’s already enveloped in the fog, racing towards what he knows will be a very painful landing. Despite the panicked, sharp breaths there’s a sense of peace that he won’t be used to force Carmen to do anything she doesn’t want to. He regrets not seeing their mission through though, or being able to tell his parents what really happened, or that he loves them one more time. 

He closes his eyes, waiting for silence and the feeling of nothingness.

“Gotcha!”

Instead he hears  _ Boston _ over the singing on stage and a soft bed of… Player opens his eyes just in time to watch himself slide down a net and into a box seat occupied by Zack and Ivy, dressed up as fancy as he and Carmen are. 

Player matches the grins on their faces, relief spilling over him faster than the tears in his eyes. He meets them for a hug halfway, squeezing for all he’s worth to remind himself that he’s alive to do so. “I knew you guys had a plan.”

“Sorry for the scare, pal,” Zack apologizes. “We’ll make it up to ya. Our treat.”

Player laughs, relishing in the feeling of physical contact with people he trusts. “Last I checked, I’m the one in charge of finances.”

“We’re not safe yet,” Ivy says as the three reluctantly part. “Let’s head to the car and get outta here. We’ll enjoy fish n’ chips when you’re not kidnapped.”

She’s right, there’s no time to feel safe yet. Though Player affords himself to, because he’s not alone anymore. 

~~~~~~~

“And you’re sure they’re safe?” Player hopes.

Only after more hours than he’d have liked, and once all four of them are secure on the chartered flight to San Diego, does Player finally let his guard down completely. It’s still a bit surreal he’s not chatting with them all through his headset as he’s accustomed to, but he pushes past the weird feeling in favor of making sure all loose ends are tied up. 

“Your parents are about as safe as they can be,” Carmen assures him. She sits on a long stretch of sofa that extends the length of the private jet, already changed into her street clothes as Zack and Ivy have also done. “It isn’t ideal, but their safety is priority.”

Player tugs at his loosened tie, wishing he could change too. They’ve already checked for trackers; if there were any, none were recognizable. “This is going to be the most awkward conversation of my life.” He sighs, and smiles wryly. “But at least I’m alive to have it.”

“You had us terrified little man!” Ivy says as she walks up behind his chair and ruffles his hair. “Don’t you be pulling stuff like this again!” 

“It’s not like I  _ wanted _ to be the caper!” Player protests as he twists to glare up at her. “I’m perfectly happy being behind the monitor.”

Zack, seated across from him, perks up. “Hey, on the bright side, we can drive you to all the cool places in SoCal now! There’s no snow there, you’ll love it!”

Player twists his mouth into a smile, though he doesn’t quite feel it. As much as he notably complains about the snow and the cold and everyone’s obsession with hockey, Niagara Falls will always be home. He’s always had a sense of pride being from a place with such a cool international landmark and...as silly as it is, it was the subject of the first real conversation he had with Carmen. It feels sad to put that aside.

Besides, San Diego has a hockey team too, of all places. The irony is he’ll live even closer to a professional rink now. 

“How much do my parents know?” he asks, bracing himself for the answer.

“Only that they’re in danger from a criminal organization, and that you’re safe in another location,” Carmen says. “Jules agreed to let you tell them the rest.”

Player sighs with relief. He’ll have time to tell them everything from the beginning and smooth things over. But suddenly his brain latches onto the other part of what Carmen says. His eyes grow wide, and he stares at his best friend with increasing distress. “Jules? You went to  _ ACME _ ?” he squeaks.

Carmen smiles sympathetically. “Technically not at the time, but agent Devineaux was there too and was very enthusiastic about helping. They’re letting your parents stay at a safehouse. Chief is organizing your new identities and Shadowsan is keeping a close eye on them from a distance.”

Though he’s used to storing large amounts of information as the team’s analyst, the news Carmen gives him threatens to explode in his mind. “You have got to be kidding me? How did you even manage to work with them? They want you behind bars.”

“The deal is your family’s safety for all the information they could ever want on VILE,” Carmen says smoothly. 

"Red..." he says softly. That was her ace. To have used it to secure his family's safety both warms his heart and tears it apart.

From the pocket of her hoodie, she retrieves what looks like a regular fountain pen that Player knows is definitely not. “When you’re ready to reunite with your parents and give ACME all the information they want, all you have to do is activate it.”

Player accepts the pen and stares at it for a long while, heart sinking as he realizes what this means. One last glance at Carmen tells him she knows the same. “I’m not leaving you,” he insists. “I promised.”

“And once you and your parents are off VILE’s radar, all three of you are welcome to come stay with us,” she smiles with genuine relief, the tip of her mouth wobbling, a tell tale sign she’s ready to laugh “so long as your parents don’t mind.”

“Carm, you realize that the guy who chased you across the globe is taking protecting Player’s parents real seriously,” Ivy reminds her. “That’s five more bodies, not three.”

Relieved beyond compare, Player grins Carmen's way. “You made friends without me again?” 

“We came to an understanding,” she explains. “And...I was really worried for you.” The ashen look upon her face says everything, but she continues anyway. “VILE doesn’t take prisoners. They could have done  _ anything _ to you.” 

“They could have killed me, I know,” Player says swiftly, because they did, at the end, try to. There’s no need to beat around the bush. 

“There are worse things,” Carmen says, a dangerous glint in her eyes that shows Player how just how much darkness she’s witnessed first hand. 

But he’s been in her ear for the vast majority of it. He’s no stranger to it all. And he’s experienced it first hand.

Player chews the inside of his lip, breaking eye contact with his friend just long enough to consider how to begin telling his recollection of events. In the end, there’s only one thing that really matters. “They looked into my memories,” he blurts out, catching a flash of surprise on Carmen’s face before he prefers to face the floor in shame. “I couldn’t stop them from finding out how we met. I’m sorry, they know about the cell phone and that I’ve had the hard drives the whole time.”

The silence that follows is heavy. Far too soon Player is back in the lab. Maelstrom listing the location of several capers to get him to divulge their secrets.

To Player’s near relief, Zack breaks the ice. “They can  _ do _ that?” 

Ivy’s glare penetrates, daring her brother to speak again. “ _ You _ don’t have to worry; there’s nothing in that noggin of yours to take. Read the room, Bro!”

Distracted momentarily by the siblings, Player misses when Carmen takes hold of his arm. It’s grounding, making sure that he doesn’t slip back into the memory, the same way her memories strengthened him during the ordeal. He isn’t sure that she knows exactly what she does, but he’s grateful all the same. 

“Thanks,” he whispers under the friendly sibling bickering. 

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” she starts, in a stern and unwavering voice that leaves no room for argument. “Dr Bellum has a lot up her sleeve that can bring even the most hardened VILE operative to their knees. We can come up with new passcodes and memories. The important thing is that you’re safe.”

Passcodes. Player blinks with furrowed brow. As much as his heart is warmed by Carmen’s reassurance, he’s puzzled by that word. Of all the memories that he unwillingly showed VILE, he is one hundred percent positive that none of them involved current Team Red operations. 

“They don’t know our passcodes,” Player says as the revelation sinks in. “All I could think about was all the time we spent together in between capers and how much I try to out-research you.” A little competition that Player is still playing catch-up in. Now his mother will have an explanation for why his grades in history and geography suddenly shot up.

It’s Carmen’s turn to furrow her brows. “VILE had you for a whole week.” A statement that, in retrospect, chills Player to the bone. “How did they not?” 

Player isn’t sure whether to be relieved or terrified. Not once has Carmen blamed him for revealing information but...she expected it as an absolute truth that VILE would extract the information from him. Even though he knows it's not from lack of faith in him, and more her knowing what VILE can do, the knowledge makes him squirm. 

For the first time, Player is really able to reflect on what happened to him. He’d been emotionally and physically spent after the ordeal and was sedated up until the opera. It’s all terrifying as he thinks back; by all rights he should be dead or his brain mush. But…

He has so many happy memories with Carmen - hard not to when they talk every day. Thats just what best friends do, they want to spend time with each other. Because of a plethora of memories, he was able to use those mundane ones in place of the capers. Even though capers were far more exciting, every moment he spends with her is a treasured gift and is usually the highlight of his day with all the inside jokes and late night calls to recover from a nightmare. It’s more meaningful than even the important work they do. 

Player opens his mouth to answer, but realizes, with some embarrassment, that he survived because of the power of friendship. Carmen might appreciate the sentiment, but he will never, ever live it down.

So he shrugs and looks away. “Dr. Bellum’s machine broke before they could get that far.”

Carmen sighs in relief. “Thank goodness for that. I’m sorry you had to go through any of it, though.”

A small smile tugs up his face now knowing that Carmen is satisfied with his answer. VILE may know their personal history, but none of it will matter once the organization is ruined. Player is going to make sure of that. 

“So what do we need to do first?” he asks. “I’m guessing that caper in Brussels is coming up soon?”

“The first thing we’re doing when we land is getting you a change of clothes,” Carmen teases. “And giving you some time before you talk to your parents,” she adds, a little more insistent. “Capers can wait.”

Player frowns. As much as he admires Carmen, and knows she means the absolute best for him, he can’t accept this. VILE will be breathing down their necks sooner than later now that they know literally everything about him and his friendship with Carmen. He can already imagine the kinds of traps VILE will set for them knowing their favorite places, their hopes, their  _ dreams _ . “It can’t wait,” he says firmly. “It’s more important than ever that we take them down. Quickly. And I’ve got your back,” his throat catches an unexpected lump, “just like you had mine.”

Part of him expects more resistance considering all that’s happened, but Player sags in relief and comfort as Carmen wraps her arms around him and holds on tight. “I know you do. I couldn’t do this without you.”

It’s true Carmen probably could pull off all the capers herself, and manage the finances, and book her own rides, but Player knows she isn’t talking about that because he’s realized the same after VILE’s attempts to take what is theirs. She’s talking about those late night video calls for no reason, the pressure of nightmares that plague them both, and the counting down of the minutes before they talk to each other again. They need each other for emotional support more than anything. For the longest time, Player was happy to provide for Carmen, but now that one of his two nightmares has come true, he’s going to be relying on her a lot more. 

That’s what friends are for, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Team Red absorbs Julia, Chase, and Player's parents into the fold and they take down VILE together and everyone lives happily ever after. 
> 
> At the time of writing I'd totally forgotten Cleo halfway identified Zack as the Duke at some point, but this is canon divergence anyway. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](https://rueitae.tumblr.com/)! Please leave a comment if you liked it! I'm anxious to know your favorite part(s)!


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